Never Say Goodbye Again
by Romeo's Waiting
Summary: A different man was staring back at her, one cut so deeply that he let nothing show on his face. TRORY
1. Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls…or 'When a man loves a woman' by Michael Bubble. **

**A/N: Okay, so…I've finally decided to put up the first chapter of my new story. I'm definitely nervous; it's a very…different story for me to write. You'll know what I'm talking about after the first chapter…and second. **

**This idea was inspired by _Scary-Girly_, thanks so much for the idea and trusting me with it! I hope I don't let you down!**

**Just a note, this story takes place in the sixth season and everything before and including 'The Perfect Dress' has happened. Also, Luke already postponed the wedding and Lorelai knows about April. Logan and Rory were living together but were not all happy go lucky as you'll see soon enough. **

**I think that's all…But if you haven't noticed this story is rated M for Mature Sexual Situations! And…it's a TRORY! Not really Logan friendly…And there will be major flashbacks throughout the story!**

**Enjoy and please send feedback!**

**- - - **

**Never Say Goodbye Again**

The plush red velvet brushed softly against her bare shoulders. Her dress, mint green and tight to her frame, helped cool her heated skin. She relaxed into the lush booth; legs crossed elegantly, one hand pressed against her thigh and the other rocking a glass back and forth.

Her lips, painted into a pink pout, curved upwards at the melody playing from a large set of speakers, mounted high on the wall. She titled her head to the side, closing her black rimmed eyes, humming along with the romantic tune.

_When a man loves a woman  
Can't keep his mind on nothin' else  
He'd trade the world  
For a good thing he's found_

A smile graced her face, disappearing behind her glass as she sipped the last of her drink, the smooth taste of Baileys coating her throat. She placed the glass on the table in front of her, fingernails tapping against its rim.

A moment later she was standing up, one hand grasping the trailing fabric of her dress and the other gripping the booth, not wanting to trip. Flimsy, silver heels adorned her feet, secured around her ankle with a tight ribbon.

The room around her was almost empty, save for the bartender and an older man sitting at the bar. He'd been there since she'd arrived, nursing glass after glass of scotch neat.

_His _drink.

Her smile faded, a frown wrinkling the corners of her eyes. She straightened herself out, no longer leaning onto the booth. She wasn't intoxicated, not even tipsy, and yet she couldn't trust her legs to hold her up. Her mind was foggy, her throat raw.

She felt intoxicated.

She wanted to drown herself at the bottom of an empty glass. Wanted to forget everything that had happened. But she couldn't bring herself to order another drink. She wasn't that kind of girl, the girl who gave up on everything the second her relationship gave up on her.

And so she walked over to the middle of the bar, eyes closed and face drawn. She vaguely felt her body sway from side to side. Her hair brushed against her shoulders, hardened from the ever present hairspray. Her dress restricted much movement, but she danced anyway.

_If she is bad, he can't see it  
She can do no wrong  
Turn his back on his best friend  
If he puts her down _

The sharp sound of a door opening and then being slammed shut greets Rory as she sways on the spot. She is determined not to let anything distract her. Her eyes stay shut, one hand combing through her hair. She waits to hear the person order something, waits to hear the bartender greet his new customer.

Nothing.

Her rocking falters as a thick silence settles over the bar, only the smooth voice of Michael Bolton filling the room. She fights not to let her shoulders tense, she doesn't want to acknowledge the person standing behind her. Because that means someone's watching her, seeing her dancing by herself and she only wants to disappear.

Rory leans her head back, sighing out through her lips, slowly relaxing every muscle in her body. It's impossible to overcome the tension sinking deep into her bones but she still tries. She can feel her skin break out into goose flesh as she exposes her open neck to the circulating fan above.

Her body used to react like that when _he'd _touch her. Goose bumps would pepper her skin even as his body burned up under her touch and when he'd brush up against her it resulted in flames. Licking their way every so slowly across her flesh…

Icy hands trailing down her bare arms….

Long fingers locking tightly with her own….

Rory gasped as her eyes snapped open, becoming shockingly aware of the body pressed intimately against her back. She could feel the harsh cotton of his jacket, the buttons pushing into her spine. Her eyes fluttered closed involuntarily, a sigh escaping past her lips, her flushed body melting into his icy embrace.

_When a man loves a woman  
Spend his very last dime  
Trying to hold on to what he needs  
He'd give up all his comforts  
And sleep out in the rain  
If she said that's the way  
It ought to be _

She struggles to open her eyes, tilting her head down, surprised to find her own arms crossed, pulled tight to her abdomen. She watches his hands; they tease the porcelain skin of her wrists, fingers tracing the bluish veins. Sparks erupt from his touch, racing through her body, her stomach plummeting and her heart clenching almost painfully.

She feels him bend down, his breath hot against the back of her neck. He'd pulled her hair to the side, piled it on top of her shoulder, and she didn't even notice. His nose presses against the base of her neck, trailing up till he's at the soft spot behind her ear.

_He _never found that spot and Rory shudders in pleasure.

Finally, she's drowning. Loosing herself at the bottom of a black, sinful spiral. She feels like she's disappearing, ever so slightly, melting into the man behind her, burning up under his frozen hands.

He's intoxicating her.

_When a man loves a woman  
I give you everything I got (yeah)  
Trying to hold on  
To your precious love  
Baby please don't treat me bad_

Slowly, she starts the motion of her hips again, swaying within in the confines of his steel arms. Dancing with him, enraptured by the warmth flowing through her veins. A volcano of heat being born in her stomach.

Her legs bend, her ankle turning inwards, brushing against his leg. She's hyperaware, her body merely responding to everything he can give her. His pants catch her dress, pulling it up her leg, the satin fabric sending chills shooting throughout her system.

From behind her eyelids she can sense a sudden darkness. Her eyes peel open; the lights aren't off but dimmed. Out of the corner of her eye she watches the bartender as he winks, hand poised on the light switch.

Second by second the room descends into darkness. The only light coming from a single, fluorescent spotlight above the bar. She watches the oily bartender disappear into the back and she's alone with the man holding her. The drunk sitting at the bar earlier was no longer there, she hadn't heard him leave.

Her eyes stay open, she can't see anyway. But she can feel him, more than before. She can feel the rough skin of his hands sliding over hers, calloused and dry. She can feel his heart beating against her back, his breath blowing stray hairs around her neck, tickling her. He has a watch on his wrist; it knocks her hips on every backwards shift. His jacket and shirt are rolled up, cuffed at his elbow, and she lets her fingers trace over the subtle hair on his arm.

_When a man loves a woman  
Deep down in his soul  
She can bring him such misery  
If she is playing him for a fool  
He's the last one to know  
Loving eyes can never see_

A deep breath fills up her lungs as she turns in his embrace. His hands relax their grip, letting her go completely so she can uncross her arms. Rory fights to keep her head straight, but she finds herself level with his neck and breathes a sigh of relief. She's still not ready to see him, scared that could put an end to this feeling coursing through her.

The single light from the bar is skimming his chest, barely shedding enough light for her to make out his unbuttoned shirt and rumpled jacket. He's not wearing a tie, she notices, as she has an uninterrupted view of his chest. The soft light bounces off a chain that lies around his neck, a cross hanging off of it along with a gold band.

She tilts her head up further, studying the shadows playing across his jaw. Her heart plays an erratic rhythm in her chest as she finally looks up at him. His face is dark, the light not reaching those sharp contours. She can see his blonde hair though, short and spiky, brushing around his ears.

Rory swallows past the lump in her throat. She brings her hands to his chest, pushing him back one step at a time. He looks too much like _him_. The suit, the blonde hair, the obvious well-to-do aura surrounding him.

She blinks as the light hits her eyes, squinting for a moment before taking in his lit up face. And suddenly her whole world fell away underneath her. There was no bar surrounding them, no music playing out in the background, nothing.

He looked like he always did. His face was more mature though, his jaw more defined. But his smirk was ever present, stretching wide across his lips and showing two rows of perfect white teeth. His skin was tanned, slightly darker than she remembered it. But it was his eyes that drew her in.

A blue so deep, so dark, they made her step closer to him. They were boring into her, alive with lust and desire. She trembled under his intense gaze.

_Yes when a man loves a woman  
I know exactly how he feels_  
'_cause baby, baby, baby  
I am a man  
When a man loves a woman_

"Mary," he breathed against her lips, his voice nothing more than a whisper.

Rory felt her eyes close, she felt naked before him. He reminded her so much of _him_, reminded her so much that she could feel the tears stinging at her eyes.

But it wasn't _him_.

His arms around her felt like ice, dousing her body in a cold shower that awakened her every nerve. She was used to the fire that surrounded her when she was with _him _but this was something so completely different.

Something about him, so familiar and yet like nothing she'd ever experienced. And Rory welcomed it, she yearned to feel his cold hands trace over every inch of her body. She felt like she needed him, like she'd never needed anything before.

"Tristan," she echoed his greeting, her eyes fluttering open, mirroring his same desire.

And before she knew it his lips were claiming hers, kissing her passionately and without rest. He swept her up into his arms, his hands digging into her dress in a bruising hold. Rory kissed him back, opening her mouth to his searching tongue, moaning with relief.

A fire was burning itself inside her, an inferno of heat that only his hands could soothe. She pushed herself closer to him, her arms snaking around his neck and fingers delving into his hair.

Her mouth separated from his, feeling his lips kiss a path down her cheek, onto her neck. His tongue soothed at her skin, easing the flames left behind from his burning lips.

And Rory surrendered herself to him.

- - -

His apartment wasn't something she'd expect. There was no pool table, no over the top plasma screen TV. But there was leather.

Rory shuddered as she let herself fall into one of his chairs, at least two times her size. She curled her legs underneath her, trying to find warmth. Her legs were naked; his wrinkled dress shirt fell to mid-thigh.

She tucked her tangled hair behind her ears, looking around his large loft apartment. All the furniture was painted slate grey, even the cabinets that lined the kitchen. Every room flowed into the next, effortlessly copying some design found on the page of _House and Home. _

Straight across from her was a huge pane glass window. Rory worried her bottom lip as she watched the early morning sun rise over the buildings of downtown New Haven. The city, however small it was, was already lit up, even at this time of day.

She felt almost comfortable, as she let herself be swallowed by his immense leather chair. His apartment was definitely more welcoming than she would have ever imagined. It scared her to realize she felt more at home here than at…

"Stupid," she whispered into the silent loft, cursing herself for once again thinking of _him_.

She'd accomplished the impossible with Tristan; she'd managed to forget everything. Forget the scent that hung off _him_, forget the grin that would light up _his_ face. She'd replaced the fire that burned her skin when _he'd_ touch her with ice.

_He fumbled with his keys, half-heartedly trying to open his door. She was more than sure he'd gladly take her right there in the hallway. _

_She finally felt the door give in behind her, making her trip into his dark apartment. But then his arms were wrapped possessively around her waist, holding her against him. She pushed him up against his door, slamming it shut, the loud bang echoing throughout the room. _

_His jacket was the first thing to go. She pushed it off his broad shoulders, letting it drop to the floor and pile around his feet. She could feel his hands sliding over her dress, her back, her arms…his hand were everywhere, slowly rendering her mind numb with pleasure. _

_Her hands went to his already half unbuttoned shirt, discarding him of the material and pushing it to the ground. For a moment, she let her gaze sweep over him, admiring the sharp lines of his abs and the exposed planes of his chest. _

_But his need was obvious and he brought his hands to her face, cupping her cheeks and bringing her forward to meet his lips. Their kiss was fervent, deepening without hesitancy. His tongue fought for dominance, sweeping into the sweet recesses of her mouth and she allowed herself to do the same._ _He tasted like the smooth Baileys she'd drank before, as well as the bitter tang of the whiskey he must have had. _

_She pushed herself up, elbows planted on top of his shoulders, her body welded to his. She savoured the deep noise that echoed in his throat, the way his touch became almost wild. His hands caught the zipper of her dress, tugging it once, twice. He was suddenly hesitant. _

_She pulled away from him, his eyes stared back at her, black with lust. A question still lingered it their depths. A promise that came to her silently and Rory felt her heart flutter involuntarily. _

_He would stop._

_It was that second that she knew she wanted this more than anything. Maybe it wasn't even about forgetting anymore? Maybe she wasn't using him to drown herself in something other than heartbreak and alcohol? _

_But she knew she wanted him._


	2. Unbidden

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N: This chapter is where the MATURE rating comes in, so you have been warned. And once again, italics are flashbacks. **

_Never Say Goodbye Again _

Rory shook her head, trying in vain to dispel the images of the two of them together. It had been more than she could handle, and yet her body still craved his. His intensity scared her at the same time as it sent a thrill racing through her system. Everything about him appealed to her. She wasn't sure if it was because he resembled _him_, at least physically, or if it was because they were polar opposites in every other fashion.

Rory pushed herself to her feet, missing the warmth the leather chair had slowly provided her body with. She wasn't sure what made Tristan seem cold to the touch. His apartment certainly didn't have any heat turned on, but could that be the reason why?

Her bare legs were covered in goose flesh a second later, chilled by the gentle wind blowing in through an open window. She tiptoed across his apartment, the black plush carpet absorbing any noise her steps would make. Not that she needed to keep quiet anyway, as she was sure he wouldn't hear her.

Her gaze drifted absentmindedly to the staircase that led up to his bedroom. That room itself was enough to make her swoon. Dark hardwood floors, a black shag carpet surrounding the bed, which was fitted with grey sheets and topped with a mass of pillows. He had a black armoire to one side and then a small sitting area to the other. A black railing connected with the stairs, a lookout onto the apartment above. Like every guy he had a massive sound system and a huge bookcase of records and CDs.

However intimidating the room seemed, Rory had felt practically at home.

- - -

_They barely made it up the stairs without tripping. His bedroom had no door, no wall preventing her from overlooking his apartment. Though she spent less than a minute recognizing this... _

_Their lips reconnected within seconds of entering the room. Her hands scratched down his chest, moaning at the sheer muscle under her touch, while Tristan's hands went for the back of her dress, once again pulling at the zipper. _

_It gave way easily and Rory felt the flimsy straps slip from her shoulders and slightly hug her hips as it rested there. She closed her eyes as he backed away from her, his hungry gaze flitting over her newly exposed body. Her breasts were covered by a black, strapless bra, bringing a groan from his lips. _

_He wasted no time in pulling her closer to him, both of them sighing in pleasure as their naked skin finally made contact. Her entire body felt like it was burning up from the inside out and yet every time his skin touched hers, it was cold. _

_Rory grinned impishly as she pulled away from him, swaying her hips back and forth, her dress finally falling to the ground. She stepped out of it, pushing him towards his bed with one hand pressed against his chest. She watched as his eyes took in her matching black panties and silver heels, his eyes darkening even further if that were at all possible. _

_Her bra came off easily, falling from her body and hitting the floor when he unclasped it. Rory felt her cheeks redden as she stood before him, exposed. She hadn't felt even a twinge of nerves before this moment, but suddenly her heart was pounding and her stomach was flipping uncontrollably. _

_He smirked, cocking his head to the side as he watched her blush. Rory brought her hands to her chest, wanting to cover herself but he stopped her. His hands clasped hers and he tugged her closer to him. _

"_You're so beautiful," he whispered and his voice startled Rory, even though it had been barely audible. _

_They hadn't said anything since they'd left the bar. Electricity had charged the air between them, so thick and so intense, words had failed to come. But now, the sound of his voice only made her want this more. His voice was smooth, husky; it blanketed her mind with lust. _

_Then he tugged her even closer to him and Rory closed her eyes in anticipation. His hands cupped her hips, trailing ever so gently up her sides, brushing against the swells of her breasts. Her body quaked under his skilled hands and Rory hissed in pleasure as he finally brought her fully into his embrace. _

_She leaned up, capturing his lips with her own. Kissing him furiously, demanding entrance into his mouth. She sucked on his tongue, delighted when his body shook and his grip on her tightened. She let her hands drift to his chest, nails scrapping past his nipples and down his stomach. _

_She looked up at him from under her lashes, hands poised at his belt. She smiled when his jaw ticked, his teeth probably grinding together in his mouth. She focussed her attention back onto his belt, deftly undoing it and then popping the button on his dress pants. They easily fell to the ground, pilling around his shoes and Tristan sat down on the bed behind him. He hastily kicked his shoes off, socks and pants following them. _

_Rory walked closer to him, laughing when he caught her hips and pulled her so she was standing between his legs. She let her fingertips dance over his skin, fascinated by the compact muscle stretched out before her._

"_Rory…" her name was a guttural moan passing through his lips and Rory was shocked at the sound. She broke away from him, her cheeks flushing red as she realized she'd lifted her knee up between his legs without realizing. _

"_Sorry…" she whispered, her voice light but hoarse at the same time. _

_Tristan met her eyes and then grabbed her around the waist, bringing her down onto the bed with him, under him. His lips brushed against hers before moving down her neck again, tongue swirling around her collarbone. Rory sighed as his mouth finally met with her breasts, kissing all around until he lowered his mouth over the peak, Rory biting her lip to stop from crying out. _

_His mouth trailed lower, across her abdomen, teasing her belly button. Rory couldn't contain the moans rising up inside her; she'd never been so overcome before. Tristan was slowly erasing every single coherent thought from her mind. _

_His lips pressed into her thighs, searing there mark onto her skin. Rory was barely conscious of the fact that his lips were no doubt leaving behind hickey after hickey on her skin. She couldn't bring herself to care though as his fingers hooked into her panties and he pulled them off her legs, leaving her naked underneath him, save for the silver heels adorning her feet. _

_Rory watched him through hooded eyes. He discarded his boxers quickly, positioning himself between her legs. Tristan stared deep into her eyes, almost as if silently asking her if she still wanted this. Rory smiled and arched her back, pushing her body up against his. _

_Tristan wasted no time in leaning over to the small table beside his bed. Rory breathed a sigh of relief when he brought a condom out and quickly put it on. She brought her hands to his shoulders, holding onto him tightly and gasped as he entered her with one thrust. _

_His mouth descended on hers again, biting at her lips before gently soothing them with his tongue. Rory wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing him down until he bore his full weight on top of her. They continued to thrust together, Rory bringing her hips up to match his rapid pace, each calling out in pleasure. _

_Rory felt her body start to clench, her legs shaking uncontrollably. She broke away from his lips, screwing her eyes shut as she felt herself lose control. He entered her one last time, stiffening above her, his head falling down to her neck. His name escaped her lips at the same time as he whispered hers._

- - -

Rory couldn't fight the images her mind was stirring up. She and Tristan, together, tangled up in a mass of sheets. She felt her body responding, her stomach dropping, skin prickling with heat.

She'd always reacted to Tristan; something about him affected her in a way she couldn't explain. Even in high school, even with the amount of times she'd turned him down, claimed to hate him. He'd always managed to bring out a part of her she didn't know existed and, back in high school, hadn't been comfortable with.

But how could she be comfortable now? She'd just slept with some guy, it didn't matter that she knew him when they were teenagers…she practically had a one night stand.

Rory suddenly felt her mind click into place, her eyes widen, her heart pick up. The image of Logan came to mind, flashing repeatedly and Rory squeezed her eyes shut. How could she?

She hadn't let herself think of him in so long. She'd seen him only once in the past week, the night before, an hour before she'd ended up at that bar. Rory felt her heart clench, tears stinging her eyes, blurring her vision. Tristan's apartment was no longer before her, just a mess of grey watercolours, no longer comforting but instead just another reminder of what she'd lost.

Her head snapped up, her legs moving her towards his front door. She couldn't stay there anymore; she wasn't that girl, that sleazy girl who used guys to forget about their own past.

She froze at the door though, toes pressing into the soft material of his forgotten shirt and jacket. Hadn't it been more than just forgetting with Tristan? She'd been so overwhelmed with emotion when she was with him, more than ever before.

She'd needed him.

Rory bit her bottom lip, turning back and letting her eyes gaze up at his bedroom. One finger went unconsciously to her mouth, perfectly painted nails disappearing as her teeth nervously bit into them.

Her steps were silent, bringing her to the bottom of the stairs within seconds. She couldn't here him, no rustling of blankets or snoring. Climbing the stairs she tried her hardest to convince herself of what she wanted.

Tristan was still in bed, sound asleep. He was lying on his stomach, blankets lying dangerously at his tailbone and Rory felt her mouth go dry at the sight. She tiptoed closer to the bed, picking up her discarded dress as she went.

His shoulders were twitching ever so lightly, muscles tensing every other second. He seemed almost tense in his sleep, making Rory more than nervous of approaching him. He almost looked awake, like he was just pretending to sleep, his back ramrod straight.

"Please don't wake up," she whispered to him, unbuttoning the shirt she'd taken from his room when she'd woken up earlier.

She slipped the shirt off, tangling herself up in her dress as she tried to put it on to quickly. Rory closed her eyes, trying her hardest to calm her racing heart and the butterflies invading her stomach.

"Sure, makes total sense that I'd be nervous now," she muttered under her breath, reaching around to tug the zipper of her dress up, all the while keeping an eye on Tristan.

Her heart rose into her throat the second she realized she wasn't wearing her heels anymore. She hadn't taken them off when they'd…her cheeks flushed pink and Rory shook her head, not letting her treacherous mind conjure up any more images of the two of them together.

Rory inched closed to his bed, peering around the sides, hoping against hope to find her shoes lying on ground, forgotten.

And then the sun filtering in through his open blinds caught something silver on the bed. Her stomach plummeted when she saw her shoes at his feet, ribbons caught under his ankles and twisted with the sheets.

"Come on…" she whined, picking up both shoes, tugging on them as light as she could.

Tristan groaned in bed, burying his face further into the mess of pillows he was lying on. Rory stared at him, frozen to the spot and waiting for him to wake up. When he stayed quiet she silently tugged on her shoes, feeling the ribbons give way.

Rory smiled in triumph, clutching the offending shoes to her chest and backing away from his bed. Her eyes strayed to the clock sitting on his bedside table, 6_:28_. She licked her lips, turning back to the stairs but she paused for a second at the top. Her gaze drifted back to him, still asleep and still tense.

"Bye Tris," she whispered, the nickname flowing from her lips unconsciously.

Rory had just stepped over his threshold, safely paused in the hallway outside his apartment when she heard the shrill beeping of his alarm clock. Her exhale of relief was lost in the sound of his heavy door closing and her flying towards the elevator.

She watched the doors slide closed, relaxed in a slump against the elevator wall, when suddenly something clicked in her mind. Unconsciously, her hand went towards her chest, remembering the feeling of something small and cold digging into her skin.

And her entire body went numb when she remembered the gold ring hanging on a chain around his neck…

What had she done?

- - -

**_A/N: You guys are so great! All your reviews made me smile! I was so happy everyone likes this story because I love writing it! Thanks so much! And I hope you like this chapter to! _**

**_Hugs and Kisses,  
-_****_Ella_**


	3. The Fake Sound of Progress

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N: Here's the next chapter. And again, italics are flashbacks. **

_Never Say Goodbye Again_

"This isn't even me being rude, half the staff working at this paper set low personal standards and then consistently fail to achieve them. I don't even know how I get out of bed in the morning anymore. It's like I've hit complete rock bottom and will have to resort to digging my way out."

A beat.

"I must have some horrible karma to burn off," Doyle finished, finally sitting himself down at his desk.

Rory blinked, studying the small man before and feeling an odd mixture of fear, sympathy and pride flowing through her.

"You know this might not be a bad thing," she told him, biting her lip as she waited for his inevitable explosion.

He only stared at her for a minute. "Explain?"

Rory sighed and sat down on the corner of his desk. "Maybe this whole meeting is just a way for them to sit down and talk about our performance. There must be a review system in place for these kinds of positions."

"I don't know what you're on, Gilmore," he stated, brushing off her offended glare. "But these are the big guys, the powers that be or whatever. They have the power to ruin us, to ruin the glory of the paper!"

"You're overreacting."

"I am not!"

She rolled her eyes. "No, I'm mistaken; you're acting like a twelve year old."

Doyle huffed, snapping from his desk and pacing around the newsroom. "I've never been called for a meeting before. I've never even heard of this sort of meeting."

"Which obviously means it's just some horrible ruse to destroy your reputation and any hope of you finding a future career," she exclaimed dryly. "Doyle, this is probably routine. The heads need to know who's running their papers and whether or not they're in good hands."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm, Gilmore," he said and then walked over to his desk, picking up the phone and punching in a number.

"Who are you calling? God? Want to know how much time you have left?" she teased, jumping off his desk and walking over to her own, glancing momentarily at the white sheet of paper that had started this entire thing.

Doyle glared at her, moving the phone down to his shoulder, covering the speaker. "I'm calling the previous editor. If this is routine, as you say, then he'd have been called in for a review also."

Rory smiled, glad to have Doyle otherwise occupied. She knew this whole meeting with the council should have thrown her into immediate panic mode, most likely resulting in her freaking out more than Doyle was, but she just wasn't responding to it.

It had been three days since the night she'd spent at Tristan's apartment, three days in which she'd spent every waking moment obsessing over it. She was slowly driving herself crazy, going over every single detail of that night, ever word spoken, every look that lasted longer than it should have.

And unlike what happened with Logan the week prior, no matter how hard she tried she couldn't stop herself from thinking about it. During her classes, at the YDN, when she was trying to read or study. That night even haunted her dreams, replaying over and over again until she'd wake up, sweating and even more confused.

But there was one detail she didn't want to forget, the one thing that stood out the most. The tiny gold ring that hung around his neck the entire night they spent together.

"Apparently it's all just a misunderstanding."

Rory frowned, jolting herself out of her thoughts and rising to meet Doyle as he walked over to the door leading out into the hallway.

"What's a misunderstanding?" she asked.

"The meeting with the council," he told her, his voice monotonous. "They want to review our positions, make sure we can handle everything. Nothing to worry about."

Rory clicked her tongue, staring at him pointedly. "I know," she stressed, "I was the one who told you that before you called up some guy who was editor I don't know how many years ago."

"I should learn to trust your gut," he exclaimed, frowning as he thought over that statement.

"You always said you did!" Rory exclaimed, one hand on her hip and glaring at him. He was about to interject when she sighed and held up her hand. "It doesn't matter. When's this meeting?"

Doyle pursed his lips and then shot a glance down at the watch on his wrist. "Just over two hours," he said and Rory nodded before turning around and starting to walk down the hall.

She just wanted to get through the next two hours and meet with the council so she could go home, crawl into bed and hide out from the world.

- - -

Turns out life could not be so kind…

Rory stomped up the stairs to the apartment she was once again sharing with Paris and Doyle. Her hair was falling out, stray wisps framing her face, her mouth set in a permanent scowl. The pretty black heels her mother had bought her for Christmas were clutched in her hand, along with a small white invitation.

The meeting hadn't been that horrible, actually the beginning was fairly comfortable, relaxed. The stiff, black and white suit she'd dressed herself in had made her feel way overdressed when she talked with the council. They'd laughed and joked, exchanging newspaper stories and journalism facts, easily keeping the conversation flowing for an hour and a half.

And then just before they'd all excused each other and parted ways, the councilman Steve Dewitt, had given them their invitations…

_Rory smiled politely at Steve's joke. It wasn't that she didn't find it funny it was more that her face was actually starting to hurt from laughing and smiling so much. _

_The past week in her life, she hadn't laughed at all. This release was not only a welcome distraction to the turbulence taking over her life but it was also yet another reminder of what had caused all her problems as of late. _

_Rory could easily feel herself slipping back into her prior disposition. Thoughts about Logan and Tristan crowding her mind, drowning out the words coming from Steve's mouth until she was surrounded by an uncanny silence. She screwed her eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to be able to just forget about everything._

"_Alright, well I think I've talked just about enough for today," Steve announced and Rory looked up at him, trying her hardest to hide how grateful she was. _

"_It was such a pleasure to meet you," she said, giving out her hand and frowning as she thought over her words, a chill sweeping through her as she realized how 'Emily' they sounded. _

"_You to, Miss. Gilmore," Steve echoed. "I love to meet with the future of journalism."_

_Rory smiled brightly and stood along with Doyle, who had been seated next to her. She watched as Doyle and Steve said their goodbyes and she smiled at the other council members. There were four men sitting alongside Steve, however they were all busy writing something down in the folders spread out before them. _

"_Alright, so I guess I will see you two tonight," Steve announced shuffling some papers in his hand as he stood from his chair. _

"_What?" Rory spluttered staring at him dumbfounded. _

Rory groaned just thinking about what Steve had then told her. It was just her luck that they were hosting some Ivy League Journalism Gala. She was ashamed to know that she'd completely blocked him out then. All her plans of that night dying in front of her, no relaxation, no going to bed early, no disappearing from the world if only for a few hours…

She sent a sparing glance down at her watch, seeing that she had another hour and a half until she had to leave. The only upside of this entire gala was that it was being held in a hotel ballroom just outside of New Haven, about a twenty minute drive.

Rory felt just about ready to scream as it seemed to take her extra long to get upstairs to her apartment. Though, as she reached the top of the stairs, she would have given anything to be once again back at the paper.

Her body is frozen, eyes wide, heart dropping into her stomach.

He obviously hadn't heard her approach, probably because her heels are still clutched in her iron grip. His back is to her, shoulders drooped and spine curved inwards as he leans his forehead onto her door.

She doesn't know what to do. Her mind is short circuiting, the only thing coming through coherently is his name…repeating over and over again, until it almost looses its meaning altogether.

_Logan…_Her lips form the word silently, suddenly making her all too aware of the fire stabbing at her lungs, as her body cried desperately for air.

And almost as if he could hear his name spoken in her mind, he turned to face her. His hazel eyes held surprise for a moment before they clouded with remorse, pleading her forgiveness. While one of his hands went directly to his hair, he jammed the other so hard into his pocket Rory could see his shoulder jerk forward.

The air around them was tense, thick with guilt, anger, pain.

"Ace," his mouth formed the word slowly as he took a wary step towards her.

Rory felt her entire body harden, hands clenching so hard on her shoes she could feel the sides of them bending in. Anger swelled inside of her, boiling dangerously high, flames burning in her eyes as she stared at him.

"Don't call me that," she seethed, her voice like steel.

Logan frowned, hurt flashing in his broken gaze. But he nodded, ducking his head and stepping away from her doorway. His body turned with her, facing her as she moved to start unlocking the door, cursing Paris for being so paranoid, as the more locks there were, the longer she had to stay in that tiny, suffocating hallway, alone, with Logan.

"Please, Rory, can we just talk about what happened?" he pleaded, finally recovering his ability to speak and Rory flinched at his words.

Rory dropped her shoes to the ground by the door, stuffing the invitation into her pocket. She hurried her movements, fingers shaking as she tried so hard to concentrate on getting the key into the lock.

"Rory, come on," he continued. "You have to let me explain! Please!"

"Go away, Logan," she told him, gritting her teeth as his name past her lips. Thinking his name was one thing but actually saying it felt like a knife piercing her heart.

But he was stubborn.

"No, Rory, we need to talk," he insisted, planting himself right in front of her door. "I'm sorry, Ace, you don't know how sorry I am."

She glared at him, that one syllable nickname driving the knife deeper. "Logan, leave me alone!" she told him forcibly.

"I never meant to hurt you! You have to believe me…"

"You never meant to hurt me?" she repeated his words, advancing on him as pain drove its way through her already crumpled heart. "You lied to me Logan, for months! Day after day, you looked me straight in the eyes and lied! How could that not hurt me? You had to know I would find out!" she yelled, her voice catching pathetically, only making her angrier. "I can't believe you Logan. I trusted you; I loved you more than anyone in my entire life! And you said it back! You told me you loved me!"

"I do love you, Rory!"

"No you don't! You don't know what love is!" She wiped furiously at her eyes, only realizing she was crying when his face started to blur before her. "It's being honest, Logan, it's telling people the truth even when its hurts. You don't lead people on; you don't build an entire life on some outrageous lie!"

His face was furious, his hands grasping at her shoulders as he shook her, like he was trying to knock sense into her. "It wasn't a lie; nothing between us was a lie!"

"That's bull!" She spit at him, his hands scalding her skin even through her jacket and shirt. "You could have told me Logan, if I meant that much to you. But no, you decided it would be better to wait until the last minute! But wait…" she paused, jerking her arms out of his grasp and raising them into the air. "You didn't tell me Logan. You're father did! Mitchum!"

"I was going to tell you!" he swore, eyes wild.

"When?" she asked, crossing her arms over her stomach, she was barely aware of her heart beat pulsing in her stomach. "The night before? On the plane, over the Pacific Ocean, just before the two of you land in Maui for two weeks?"

"Rory…"

"Don't," she stated, closing her eyes as she drew in breath after breath, each piercing her lungs. "I have to go," she told him emotionlessly, finally pushing the door open and kicking her shoes into the apartment.

"Please, Rory," he asked her again, reaching out but she flinched away. "I still love you!"

She shook her head, turning back to him, hand resting on the door. "No you don't," she whispered again before shutting the door.

Rory stared at the door, minutes ticking by as she heard him finally descend the stairs. Still she stood there, a heavy silence draping over her until all she could hear was the heavy pounding of her own heart and the blood rushing in her ears.

And then the pain came, crashing over her frame in waves. Her stomach curved in, as she felt her body rack with sobs.

And the tears that she'd denied for so long finally spilt from her eyes, as she felt what she was sure was the last piece of her heart break.

- - -

**A/N: Oh My God! I am completely blown away by the amount of response this story is getting! Everyone who reviewed I now thank you! You guys are amazing!**

**So, this chapter was the infamous Logan-Rory confrontation. Trust me, you'll know what happened soon enough but I have to tease you for a little while! There was a hint in this chapter and if anyone can figure it out I shall dedicate the next chapter to you!**

**Sorry for the lack of Tristan in this chapter though…And sorry to anyone who really loves Logan (I love him to!) but this story is very anti-Logan. **

**Please review and tell me what you think!**

**Hugs and Kisses,  
-Ella**


	4. Their Good News Rut

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**A/N: Here's the next chapter. And again, italics are flashbacks. Also, I know the Logan/Rory relationship isn't like this on the show, I did that on purpose. I actually love Logan but for this story to work I couldn't make him a good guy. Sorry to anyone who likes Logan! And, I also changed the relationship between Rory and Lorelai, which I hated doing but… Hopefully it won't upset everyone to much!**

_Never Say Goodbye Again_

_- - - _

_And just like every other night that week and the weeks prior, they were fighting. _

_She could remember so many nights before, nights spent cuddled on the couch, watching old movies or some stupid TV show. Those nights had quickly become a mere memory, something to look back on and sigh. _

_She was nostalgic for the nights when the two of them could barely say anything to each other and it wasn't taken as the cold shoulder. When he would turn off his cell phone when they were eating, when he would even eat with her. _

_The only time that ate together now was when the group went out; of course Logan was to drunk to really appreciate the time spent together. Although, Rory knew she couldn't just blame the young Huntzberger for everything. It seemed like every spare moment she had –after her classes and her work and spending time with her mother– were spent working as editor for the YDN. _

_Rory frowned as she walked over to their couch and shrugged off her coat, laying it on top of a mess of folders and papers. It was the work that had taken up three hours last night, after Logan went to bed. She could remember when they were first going out, he would stay up with her, help her edit her work or quiz her on whatever test she had the next day…_

"_Are you going back to the paper tonight?" Logan asked. However simple the question sounded Rory didn't miss the bitterness lacing his voice. _

_She squared her shoulders. "You were happy when I was named editor, remember that Logan?" _

"_Of course I'm happy for you," he countered, running and hand through his hair. "I'm over the moon," he muttered, stalking off into the kitchen. _

"_And that plate just had it coming?" she whispered under her breath, flinching as the sound of porcelain smashing together echoed around the apartment. _

"_Just because you're editor doesn't mean you have to run off to the paper whenever there's some tiny problem!" he said, coming back towards her, arms thrown out. "You don't see me fixing everything at work. You don't see me running out before the crack of dawn to edit someone's article or work the layout…or whatever it is you do!"_

"_What am I supposed to say, Logan? I'm sorry for wanting the paper to be its best?" she asked sarcastically, eyes hardening. "This is something I've been working towards forever. This job could be the one thing that helps me move forward in journalism when I graduate. Don't you get that?"_

"_Look, Ace, I know being editor means a lot to you but it doesn't have to be everything. If you're so worried about getting a job after Yale I can get you one…"_

"_I'm not going to work for you Logan!" she yelled, face heating up as her eyes flamed. "I'm not going to be that girl. What would people think if I worked for you? 'She's sleeping with the boss, no wonder she got the job'…"_

"_Rory…"_

_She walked up to him, arms crossed over her chest. "I can't be that girl, Logan. I thought you knew that."_

"_I do, Ace, and I love that about you. If I'd wanted some mindless bimbo to sit at home and plan functions for me…I would have asked my mom to set me up!" he told her, reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder._

_Rory frowned at his words, her head cocking to the side. His eyes were hard, his teeth grinding together. 'I would have **asked** my mom to set me up…' She shook her head; she couldn't have heard that right…_

"_What do you mean?" _

_He looked panicked for a minute, his grip on her shoulder tightening almost to the point where it hurt. And then he was gone, halfway across the apartment, staring out the window. His back was ramrod straight; she could see the stress in every line of his body. _

"_Logan?"_

_He exhaled, one hand pressed against the window frame, his whole body leaning into it. "You hungry?" _

_Rory rolled her eyes, feeling her irritation flare up again. He always did this. Whenever they even got close to talking, really talking, he would change the subject. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her, something that caused him to freeze up and freeze her out. _

"_Logan can we just talk about this…"_

"_I don't want to talk!" he yelled, his hand slamming into the wall hard enough to make her jump and step backwards. _

"_Logan…"_

_However, her words were cut off when the apartment door opened and the intimidating figure of Mitchum Huntzberger stalked inside. Rory glared at him, her anger doubling by his presence alone. _

"_First time I've ever been happy to see my dad," Logan muttered under his breath as he walked over to where Mitchum was standing but Rory heard him and she immediately backed away from him. _

_She watched as father and son regarded each other silently for a moment. _

"_So I guess you finally told her?" Mitchum then asked and Rory frowned, turning to Logan, the panicked look on his face only making her more nervous. _

"_Told me what?"_

- - -

It didn't take her long to realize she could spend eternity crying over what happened. The pain from her entire relationship with Logan was enough to fuel tears that would last her a life time.

It wasn't until both her legs had gone numb and her throat had started to ache that she realized something else. She wasn't just crying because of Logan or because of their failed relationship.

She was crying because of Tristan and that one night they spent together.

It suddenly seemed like everything in her life was directly related to that now. That one night of passion, guilt, lust…pain…

That one night had somehow reshaped her entire being; she knew nothing would be the same again. She could go her whole life without seeing Tristan anymore and yet she would be different because of that night.

One night she couldn't even tell people about.

She'd tried with Paris. The blonde had been at the apartment when Rory came in the morning after. She'd looked her friend in the eyes, seen the compassion so rare and abnormal in Paris, and yet when she went to say the words her voice had died on her. Her eyes had filled with tears, her heart jamming her throat, contracting painfully.

She hadn't been able to tell Paris.

She'd tried again with Lorelai. That should have been easier. Her mother was her best friend in the entire world, they shared absolutely everything. Or at least they used to. But Rory hadn't gone to her mom when everything with Dean happened, or when she started casually dating Logan. Rory hadn't gone to her mom when problems started arising in her and Logan's otherwise perfect relationship.

But she knew it was only healthy. Her and her mom had been so close for so long. They'd been each others lives for years, but they were growing apart. It hurt to know they had separate lives but Rory loved it also. She loved hearing about how Lorelai's dates with Luke went, how she was doing with the Inn. They would talk for hours about something Kirk or Taylor had done in town, or Emily's latest phone call. And yet Rory knew that there were things even Lorelai didn't tell her. Like why she was suddenly on friendly terms with Christopher again, or how she was really dealing with Luke postponing the wedding, or why every once in a while Rory would get a phone call from Luke, asking if Lorelai was there.

They'd somehow gotten into a rut. A good news rut. Everything that was wrong in their lives and their relationships didn't come out into the open during their phone calls or their weekends spent together. They talked about the good things, the happy things. Everything else was pushed aside, buried under brave smiles and crying, blue eyes.

And that night with Tristan was definitely considered bad news. And so she never told Lorelai, she never told anyone.

But as the tears she'd been crying slowly dried on her cheeks, she wished she could pick up the phone and call her. She wished the months they'd spent not talking had only been a nightmare and that it didn't really happen. Because then there wouldn't be any need for her to walk on egg shells around her mom, to feel the need to not discuss anything to serious. Serious conversations had only led to months spent apart from each other, to her heart being broken over and over again as she woke up everyday to see her grandparents' pool house and not her bedroom in Stars Hollow.

Rory wanted nothing more than to be able to turn back time. Back to when she was in high school, when she hadn't given away her virginity to her married ex-boyfriend or seen exactly how unfair life can really be.

But Rory wasn't a child anymore. She wasn't fresh faced and sixteen, living with her mom and worrying about Chilton and whether her and Dean were going to get in another fight over school work or Jess or Tristan…

Was her mind running in some kind of twisted, contorted circle? How come no matter what she thought of it always came back to him?

"Ugh…" Rory groaned, forcing herself off the floor, wobbling on her half-asleep legs. "Migraine, table for one…" she muttered as she walked over to the bathroom in search of Advil.

She happened to spare a glance at the clock sitting up on the wall. Nothing was more tempting then to just crawl into the bed, hide under her covers and let sleep take her.

Except she knew Doyle would give her hell for blowing off the gala tonight.

Of course there was a good chance Logan would be there. He was after all on the paper, though she was sure he had less articles to his name then he did fingers but he was still on it. She worried her bottom lip, picturing Logan in her mind, seeing him cornering her in the hallway earlier.

"_I never meant to hurt you! You have to believe me…" _

His words echoed in her mind, the expression on his face haunting her unmercifully.

"_I do love you, Rory!" _

"_No you don't! You don't know what love is!"_

As much as it hurt to come to terms with it, Rory knew he didn't love her. He never really loved her, just the idea of her. He loved the fantasy of him having one girlfriend. Because that was all it was; a fantasy… Sure it happened, and Rory didn't doubt his faithfulness. But she knew Logan wasn't ready for anything as serious as love.

He'd told her he loved her. The words had seemed so sincere at the time but she'd read the confusion in his eyes. He himself hadn't even been fully convinced it was love he was feeling. And yet Rory couldn't blame him for that, how could she? Logan had never loved anyone before, at least not anyone outside his family. He loved Honour; he loved his friends, sure, but never his girlfriends.

She couldn't blame him for thinking it was love, after all she'd gone through the same thing once. She'd been convinced she'd loved Dean when they were first going out. She'd finally told him, after a lengthy separation –in front of Tristan, of course– but she hadn't known love until Jess had moved to Stars Hollow. The bad boy from New York, the boy her mother hated, her best friend hated, the whole town hated…the first boy she'd ever fallen in love with.

Logan was feeling the same thing. He'd never cared about anyone before, not as much as he cared about her and so he thought of it as love.

And as much as Rory hated to admit it, she'd known all along. But she had been in love with Logan and for a while, she'd made herself be okay with only having a part of him.

That ended now.

She didn't want any of him anymore.

And she'd finally let herself cry for him, for their ruined relationship.

She just wished her heart could heal as easily as her tears fell.

- - -

**_A/N: Okay, finally the fourth chapters up! This one was so intense, writing it took forever even though it's rather short. But I knew I wanted it up before Christmas so I finally finished it. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone!_**

**_Thanks a bunch to everyone who reviewed! I was so happy when everyone mostly got what I had hinted about. I tried to make it obvious without outright saying it! And as promised this chapter is dedicated to the first person who guessed it….(Drum roll please!) reesesreader congrats! Thanks for your awesome review!_**

_**Hugs and Kisses,  
-Ella**_


	5. Gold Chain, Gold Ring

**A/N: Okay, so…. haven't updated in like forever. But, my computer suddenly decided it didn't want to turn on anymore. So, I sent it out to hopefully get fixed; finally got it back yesterday. Sorry about the wait, but I had write my Psych exam this morning. Anyway, here's the next chapter, with the return of Tristan! Yeah!  
**

**Hugs and Kisses,  
-Ella**

Never Say Goodbye Again

She almost felt like a princess walking down the huge, imposing grand staircase into the hotel ballroom. On her feet, hidden under layers of crinoline, was a brilliant pair of silver heels, matching perfectly with the silver ribbon tied in her hair.

The dress was gorgeous. It was definitely not something she would have just lying around in her closet, waiting for a night out like this. The dress was a gift from her grandmother, she was supposed to wear it to some cotillion party Emily wanted her to attend. Of course with all the drama going on in Rory's life she'd completely forgotten about that and well…why let a perfect, princess ball gown go to waste?

Rory glowered, watching as Doyle rushed ahead of her. If she were being completely honest with herself then she wasn't that upset about being at this party, actually she would have enjoyed coming had it been held on a different night.

But instead of being at home, in bed, eating her weight in ice cream and crying through _An Affair to Remember_, she was at a gala. She was at a gala with her eyes still bloodshot, her face dry from tears and her throat raw from crying…

And though she may be dressed the part, Rory knew she wasn't the princess of whatever fairytale this night was apart of. She wasn't a princess because there was no blonde prince waiting at the end of the staircase.

She hesitated, her foot hovering over the ground. It was stupid but she almost felt like stepping off the stairs and into the ballroom was just one more step away from Logan and what they had.

Which of course it wasn't because she could see Logan directly across the room from her, nursing a drink at the bar…

Rory shook her head, teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. She closed her eyes and placed the tip of her shoe onto the marble floors.

Nothing happened.

It wasn't a huge moment, not to anyone else at least. There was no silence thick enough to hear a pin dropping in the background, the people dancing and mingling didn't fall silent and watch her as she stepped off the stairs.

Nothing happened.

Rory smiled brave. She readjusted her head, picking her chin up and fixing her attention on the bar again. He was still there, conversing with the bartender this time. She tried not to let him get to her. She'd made the first step on her own; the first step was always the hardest and it was over. She could do the rest…

"Rory!" She heard the distinct sound of Doyle's voice calling her name. With one more fleeting look at the bar she turned, society smile in place, and headed towards Doyle and the people he was speaking with.

- - -

"What do you mean you don't serve coffee!" she asked outraged as she leaned up against the bar.

The guy behind the counter smiled politely. "I can offer you anything else, Ma'am."

Rory groaned, dropping herself into one of the bar chairs. It wasn't that this night was actually that bad, in fact Rory had for the most part been enjoying herself. Everyone attending was nice and interesting, all affiliated with journalism somehow. The society smile she'd had in place to begin with had quickly brightened and turned genuine as she'd talked with the other aspiring reporters and professors.

"She'll have a martini."

For the most part she'd been enjoying herself…

"No, I won't," she told the bartender, her face hardening into a glare.

"You didn't tell me you'd be here."

Rory frowned, swiveling around to face him. "I'm on the YDN, Logan. I want to be a reporter. Why wouldn't I be here?" she told him dryly, not trying to hide her anger from him.

"Rory, I'm sorry!" he told her again, reaching forward and taking her hand into his. "You've never given me a chance to explain…"

"Explain? You can't explain, Logan!" Rory closed her eyes, counting to ten in hopes of calming herself down. This was a very public event; she didn't want to come close to making a scene. "You're just going to have to accept that. You can't talk yourself out of this, you can't buy yourself out. That's life."

She barely looked at him as she walked off. Her head was spinning, her eyes stinging once again. Though she was sure her tears were half from anger. He just wouldn't leave her alone. How could he not understand they were over?

She pushed herself through the crowd as politely as she could. She could see Doyle, who was now talking with Paris who'd finally been able to make the event. Rory immediately changed directions, trying to maintain a conversation all the while pretending she was Marcia Brady wasn't possible anymore. She knew she wouldn't fool anyone…

Though her escape was cut short as she collided with a man, dressed perfectly in a black and white tux. Her hands came up to steady herself as an apology came tumbling off her lips.

"Don't worry, Ma'am, my fault entirely," the man corrected her smiling pleasantly.

Rory returned the smile, brushing back the wisps of hair framing her face. She went to step aside but the man gently grabbed her shoulder. She finally looked at him properly, for the first time seeing the silver tray he was balancing on one hand and the…

"I'm hallucinating," she said under her breath, glancing between him and the _Starbucks_ coffee cup, her mouth watering at she inhaled the heavenly scent.

The waiter laughed respectfully and shook his head. "I assure you you are not hallucinating Miss," he told her and tilted the tray towards her again. "One coffee, black."

Rory smiled wide and gladly accepted the drink, bringing it to her lips eagerly. The liquid was scalding but she gulped it down anyway, the thick and rich taste immediately warming her.

"How?" she asked the waiter, blue eyes glittering with confusion and delight.

But the man only smiled and backed away from her. She watched in bewilderment, hands still wrapped around the cup, not even feeling the way it burned her palm.

"I see I was right. You'd still pick coffee over oxygen…"

That voice. She knew that voice.

Rory swallowed, her throat constricted by the lump of emotion welling up inside her. She couldn't hear anything, not the soft music playing in the background or the din of voices that filled the room…

She couldn't hear anything besides his voice.

"Tristan," she whispered, turning around to see him standing behind her, hands clasped in front of him.

He was dressed in a jet black suit, black shirt and striking navy blue tie. It lit his eyes up, icy blue, and the intensity of his gaze sent a tremble through her body. His hair wasn't combed back like most of the other men but rather messy, like he'd been constantly running his hand through it.

"What are you…" she trailed off, swallowing again. Her throat was to dry, she didn't trust her voice enough to finish her question.

It hung in the air.

Tristan still didn't say anything. He offered no explanation, but the corners of his mouth twitched. His eyes held no emotion though, making her unease escalate faster than she thought possible.

His eyes were a blue void. There was no anger, no frustration, and no pain.

But then they shifted. Ever so slightly. His attention moved to something just over her shoulder and before Rory could stop herself she was turning around.

She wasn't sure what his eyes had caught behind her, but hers could only see one thing. The man still seated at the bar, thankfully his back was turned to her though. His suit was rumpled more than before, his fingers toying with the jacket pockets and she knew he was dying to get out of its formal constraints.

And then it clicked.

Rory felt her mind cloud over, her heart kick painfully as realization settled in. She shook her head, tears obscuring her vision until everything was just a mess of colours swirling into each other.

She'd maintained two completely identical chains of emotions until that moment. One for the man at the bar, guzzling down scotch after scotch. And another for the man standing in front of her, silent as ever.

Completely identical and yet separate from each other. Separate because she couldn't think of them together. It wasn't possible; it wasn't something she could deal with.

Keeping them separate in her mind had kept her from really accepting what had happened. Everything that had happened with Logan, all the lies she was trying to bury inside herself and all the heartbreak that threatened to oppress her everyday…she kept that separate from Tristan.

Call her childish or naïve, but the minute they became something other than two completely unrelated people was the minute she had to accept what had happened. She would have to accept that she'd used Tristan to drown her pain; she'd used him to forget about what happened. She would have to accept that her body now craved him, that he made her feel something she'd never thought real.

And that minute came now. Just passed dusk, in a crowd of people, dressed up like a princess, she had to accept everything.

She slowly turned her back to Logan once again. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her breath coming slow and deep, picking up the softest edge of Tristan's cologne. She noticed how much closer he'd moved to her, their bodies were inches apart, close enough that they could be dancing, close enough for her to reach up and once again let him take away everything.

"No…" she whispered, taking one hand away from her coffee and pressing it just under her chest. She backed away from him, all of a sudden feeling claustrophobic.

She couldn't have them in them same room. The two men, so heavily intertwined in her heart and mind, standing within yards of each other. It was too much.

"Rory?"

He'd said barely over ten words to her. But his presence was intense; his tall figure looming over hers and Rory felt confused at the sense of safety she felt at standing this close to him. She let her eyes meet his again, the blue was only slightly warmer than before but she didn't miss the concern that flashed through them.

She steeled herself as his fingers traced over the skin of her wrist, her mind flashing back to that night again, sinful desires sweeping through her. Trembles wracked her body, that familiar shot of ice to her system that came along with his touch. She was sure she'd never get over the way his touch affected her, like she'd stripped down to nothing and dived into the mouth of a river.

Logan and Tristan were nothing alike.

They were fire and ice.

And she was trapped in between them, susceptible to both. She had to move, her feet inching towards the exit. It was her first basic instinct, to run. She'd run from Logan after he'd finally told her everything. She'd run from Tristan the morning after.

But she couldn't run from both of them at the same time. Call her selfish but she wanted someone there to catch her. And so Rory straightened her back and grabbed the hand of the man standing in front of her.

She'd pick coffee over a martini any day…

- - -

A chill hung in the air, as frost adorned the rooftops all throughout New Haven. It was the end of January and temperatures continued to drop lower and lower each day. The ground was frozen, a crunchy layer of snow covering the undisturbed areas.

Rory loved this time of year. Be it because she grew up with her mother who'd been having a secret affair with snow since she was little or merely because of how pretty and radiant it made everything.

Although the negative temperature was anything but pretty as she wrapped her coat tighter around herself. The beautiful strapless dress she was wearing held no heat and the silver heels she'd chosen were making her toes turn numb.

But she continued walking. Her dress billowing around her feet with every step, one hand hidden in her coats long sleeves while the other stayed clasped with the man walking beside her.

She'd needed to get away from that ballroom. It had felt suffocating, stifling. But now, walking hand in hand through a deserted park, snow covering the trees and hiding the grass…she felt peace engulf her. Even the temperature seemed to gradually warm as she continued walking along.

She'd needed to get away from Logan, from the thoughts and feelings he made her have. His presence in the ballroom had been overwhelming and yet here she walked with Tristan. With the man she'd spent one passionate, lust filled night with. A man she'd walked out on and never called or tried to get in touch with.

And yet his presence was like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was almost like he wasn't even there, wasn't walking beside her at all. And she would have almost believed that if she couldn't feel the strong grip of his hand on hers. He was silent, solemn, making her mind race as she tried to guess what he was thinking about.

His presence was almost nonexistent. But at the same time she was more aware of him than she'd ever been with anyone else.

The night around them was silent, so silent she swore she could hear their hearts beating together, lost in an identical rhythm. The air around them was below zero, but his grip on her hand was somehow cooler. The crunch of the snow was loud under his heavy shoes; she was almost sure she could even hear the rustling of his jacket as it was picked up with a stray breeze.

"You gonna say something anytime soon?" Tristan suddenly asked and the rough sound of his voice made Rory jump.

She looked up at him; his blue eyes were dark, with only the smallest hint of amusement glittering in their depths.

She swallowed nervously, her grip on his hand tightening unconsciously. "What should I say?" she asked him, not meeting his eyes.

He was silent for a moment as his eyes stayed trained on her making her heart beat erratically in her chest. "When did you leave my place?" he asked.

Rory stopped walking, staring up at him with shock written all over her face. She never would have thought he would bring that up right away, or be so completely blunt about it. Her face reddened as she looked back down.

"Umm…Just before 6:30…" she told him quietly.

Tristan nodded, his jaw tightening every so slightly. He still didn't say anything though as they once again started walking through the deserted park. Rory watched him out of the corner of her eye, guilt strumming throughout her body. She couldn't rationalize it, but she didn't want to be the reason he was frustrated or angry.

"I'm sorry," she told him, though as the words left her mouth she knew they wouldn't make a difference. "I just had to…"

"Bolt."

She frowned, his sharp tongue cutting into her and making her stomach churn. "I really am sorry about just leaving."

There was silence for a minute but then his eyes shifted, subtly. The trace of amusement she'd seen in them before grew, until his lips stirred, almost forming his familiar smirk.

"Maybe next time you could leave a note…" he trailed off and Rory gasped.

"Next time?" she repeated her voice cloaked with indignation, masking the desire that swept through her at his words.

"Was I out of line to assume there'll be a next time?" he asked her, his expression finally returning to one she knew so well. Cocky arrogance hung around him, his blue eyes dancing, the darkness and coldness seemingly evaporating.

Rory looked at him closely. She wasn't sure which answer to give him, she wasn't even sure if she had a true answer to give. But as she watched his eyes continue to shimmer she knew she couldn't bring herself to lie to him. She didn't want that distance to shroud him again, the detachment that gnawed at her heart.

And so she said nothing and they continued walking.

- - -

She was back in his shirt, back on his couch. The fireplace she hadn't paid attention to last time was crackling, glowing red. He was sitting beside her, three feet of his leather couch separating them. His smirk was ever present.

"Would you please stop staring at me?" she asked, her voice caught between embarrassment and frustration.

Tristan merely laughed, the sound besetting her ears, rough and hoarse. It slowly melted into the other sounds filling in the silence of his loft. The quiet trickle of rain as it hit the metal railing on his balcony. The consistent ticking of the large, wooden grandfather clock, propped up beside the fireplace. The crackling of the flames as they ate away at the logs of wood, heating the room nicely.

"Nothing happened," Rory stressed frowning as she constantly tried to tug his shirt down her thighs.

"Not nothing," he rebutted, his smirk only growing.

She rolled her eyes, trying her hardest not to let him see how much his words affected her. Just sitting next to him, smelling the scent of him that was infused into his shirt…This apartment held so many memories, still fresh and still too much for her to handle.

As the seconds ticked by Rory fidgeted restlessly. How could he be so calm? Was he not remembering what happened last time they were together? She could barely close her eyes, was going as long as she could without blinking, only so she couldn't have that image flash before her mind. And yet he barely looked flustered, he was calm, unaffected…tense?

She titled her head to the side, watching him more closely. His hands were laid out on his thighs, gripping the material of his jeans. His knuckles were white. His jaw was set, tight. His back a perfect straight line, just like it was that morning she left.

What was it that ate away at him?

Was it her that haunted him even in his dreams?

Somehow she knew that couldn't be it. He, for some reason, relaxed around her. He smiled –smirked– he laughed and teased her. But it was like he was freezing his body, tensing every muscle as if he was preparing himself for something.

And then just like last time his lips quirked, his body relaxing a notch.

"You going to get your dress?" he asked.

Rory blinked. She turned her head, listening for the one sound she'd been ignoring earlier.

The dryer had shut off.

"Right…I'll be getting that…" She let her eyes rest on him for a moment, but he didn't move. Rory stood from the couch, both hands pulling down on his shirt self-consciously.

She walked across his apartment, into a small room by the bathroom; a laundry room. She opened the large, top loading dryer and gathered her dress out. With a fleeting glance to the closed door, she unbuttoned his shirt and carefully slipped her dress over her head, warm and dry once again.

"Remind to never tell my grandmother I put this in the dryer," she muttered as she walked back out into the more open space.

Tristan rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure Emily would have a heart attack."

Rory laughed until she realized what he actually said. " Emily?"

He smirked, scratching at the back of his neck. " Emily Gilmore is your grandmother, right?" he asked dryly.

Rory only stared at him. It shouldn't be such a shock to her that he knew her grandparents. He was after all society; he'd grown up in Hartford, gone to Chilton with her. But it made her pause, made her reflect. Her grandmother had never mentioned the Dugrey's; her grandfather had only commented that Janlen was a good man.

"Our grandfathers are good friends actually," he added, slipping his hands into his pockets, rocking back onto his heels.

Rory nodded, thinking back to her high school days. The party her grandparents threw for her, Madelyn's birthday party and their kiss at the piano, their Romeo and Juliet project. She couldn't believe they'd been thrown back together again. After he left for military school she'd been sure she'd never see him again.

"What's wrong?" his voice cut through her thoughts and Rory turned to him again.

She smiled through the frown that had settled over her features. Rory hugged his shirt closer to her body, using the excess to help cover her exposed arms.

"I was just thinking about Chilton," she told him softly, wondering curiously how he would respond.

He surprised her with a small smile, his blue eyes clouding over almost wistfully. "A lifetime ago," he whispered and Rory silently agreed.

"You know," she started, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You were really the only thing that stood between Paris and I being friends."

He looked at her incredulously. "Now that I don't believe."

"What? The fact that it was because of you?"

"No, that you and Gellar actually became slightly less hostile towards each other," his words were dripping with amusement.

Rory scowled and stepped closer to him. "I'll have you know we became friends. We even shared presidency at Chilton."

He stared at her for a moment before whistling and shaking his head. "Who knew Gellar could play nice with others?" he asked rhetorically.

Rory smiled. "You two didn't keep in touch?" she asked him after a minute, she wasn't sure how much he liked talking about his time in military school.

His reaction was nothing like she would have guessed, as his laughter rang throughout the loft. "No, I haven't heard from Paris in years. I only kept in touch with a few people from Chilton," he admitted and then walked back over to his couch, letting himself fall into.

Rory squirmed by the door for a moment before she followed him. "Girls?" she asked, although her tone implied she was only joking.

Tristan glared at her playfully. "Not girls. And not Duncan and Bowman either."

Rory nodded. "Good, they weren't nice guys," she told him.

Tristan smirked and leaned over to her. "I'm not exactly a nice guy, either, Mary," he breathed, his voice husky and making that familiar volcano of heat bubble up in her stomach.

She averted her eyes from his, feeling her cheeks heat up. "You could always make me blush," she whispered, not sure if she wanted him to hear that or not.

Tristan smirked, smug, and leaned back into the couch, one arm going up around the back of his neck. And Rory felt her breath catch as the shift in his position exposed his chest slightly; top three buttons of his shirt undone.

_Gold chain. Gold ring. _

She swallowed and tried to physically prepare herself for what that could mean. "Tristan?" she asked hesitantly.

He lazily let his gaze drift towards her. "Yeah…"

She frowned and let her hand play around the base of her neck. "Is that…? I mean, are you…?"

Tristan copied her expression but then his eyes clouded over, like a grey shield was put up and it blocked out everything else. "It was my brothers," he told her emotionlessly.

Rory exhaled in relief, feeling her heartbeat return to normal. He wasn't married. He wasn't just another Dean.

They were both quiet, merely listening to each others breathing; Rory's now calm and repetitive, while Tristan would every so often let out a slow exhale, sighing.

Their strangely peaceful moment was shattered as the silver phone sitting on the glass table in front of them started to vibrate. Rory blushed and reached forward, grabbing the phone before it could make its way off the table and crash onto his floor.

"I should probably…" she trailed off pointing at the phone and Tristan nodded, averting his eyes from hers.

Rory happened to glance down, swallowing at the way his shirt had rode up, exposing a few inches of sculpted, somehow tanned skin. She eagerly opened her phone and greeted the caller, in a hurry to stop her mind from conjuring up the full image of Tristan without a shirt on.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice alarmingly chipper, making her cringe and grip her phone tighter.

There was a pause, lasting only a moment but Rory could hear the laboured breathing of someone waiting on the other line. "Rory?"

"Mom?" she asked, bolting upright, a frown crossing her features and fear crippling her heart.

"I think I want to talk," Lorelai whispered over the phone and Rory was on her feet in a second.

"I'm on my way!" she stated and shut her phone off.

"What's wrong?" Tristan asked, standing up as well and following her pacing with his eyes, his face bathed in concern. "Is your mom okay?"

Rory shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip in order to stop her tears. Tears that were for her mother, for the confusion and pain and anger she could so easily hear in her voice. Tears that were for their slowly crumbling relationship and the fact that she knew she would be spilling her guts to her absolute, true best friend in less than an hour.

"Rory?" Tristan asked again, coming forward and laying a hand on her forearm, turning her to face him.

Rory looked into his icy blue eyes, her heart giving a sharp kick and she stepped closer to him. She couldn't explain the feeling his presence gave her. This incredible, terrifying security…

And so she latched onto him, finally letting herself need someone…

Finally letting herself need him…

- - -

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys, you make me feel all giddy when I read them. Although, one person asked if Rory was a clepto? I don't really understand why you would think that, but she's not. Just to reassure. Hope you all like this chapter!  
_


	6. Miracles Come Quietly

**Never Say Goodbye Again**

"…feels like everything is falling apart," she sniffled, head resting on her mother's lap. "Logan never told me, I can't believe he never told me! He should have said something! But no, of course, that would have been too easy! He never tells me anything! He's like his very own Marcel Marceau, you know. Well, except without the invisible box…"

Lorelai smiled sadly, continually running a hand through her daughters' hair. She could feel her heart breaking, not only for herself but for Rory. Her sweet, beautiful, smart daughter, she didn't deserve this. Lorelai had known Logan was wrong for her from the second she saw him. Saw him pawing away at her daughter in the back room at the elder Gilmore's wedding-vowel-renewal-thing! But not even she could have predicted this, not even she, who'd spent hours picturing herself throwing darts at his picture, could have predicted he'd ever sink so low.

"I love him!" Rory hiccupped, anger ebbing its way into her sad blue eyes. "I loved him and this is how he treats me. Lying and hiding away from the truth. How am I supposed to know he would ever have told me?" she asked, hysterical. "I'm oblivious, I'm blind! I would have never figured it out. I would have become one of those annoying women who go on Oprah and confront their husbands about the other women in his life!"

"Rory, sweetie, shhh, it's gonna be okay," Lorelai cooed, trying to soothe her daughter before she worked herself into tears again. She couldn't stand to see Rory crying over that bastard, he didn't deserve her tears! Every single tear that fell from Rory's eyes was just another dart that Lorelai pictured throwing at Logan's head.

"How can it be okay? He's betrothed! He's gonna get married, he's gonna get married to that lovely Fallon girl!" she cried, sobbing into Lorelai's shirt.

"I doubt she's all that lovely," Lorelai quipped, trying to make Rory feel even the slightest bit better. "Probably one of those 'beautiful people' who's more plastic than person," she muttered.

Rory snorted. "Shira seemed to like her," she whispered, wiping her nose. "Actually," she paused, striking a more serious face. "I kind of feel sorry for her. Shira Huntzberger, like that's the kind of person you want having your back! She's all cocktail parties and false niceties but when you leave the room or hell, sit down at her dinner table, she's the one driving the knife into your back!"

Lorelai couldn't stop her lips from quirking into a smile. "She sounds swell."

"I hate those people," Rory sighed, wrapping her arms around her stomach, embracing herself as the pain of heartbreak kept flooding her body.

"Well," Lorelai drawled, "You could always take a page from the ladies on murderess row," she advised pointing at the television.

Rory smiled and looked over at the TV, watching as the six merry murderesses danced and sung out the Cell Block Tango. "Yeah, who would I be?" she asked, glad to have something to lighten the atmosphere a tad.

"Well, Annie of course," Lorelai said as if it was obvious. "_I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake City about two years ago and he told me he was single and we hit it off right away. So, we started living together. He'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd fix him a drink, we'd have dinner. And then I found out, "Single" he told me? Single, my ass!_" Lorelai talked along with the movie.

Rory laughed, watching her mother's passionate performance. She shook her head. "Logan's pretty impressive with the whole defying death scene," she commented. "But I'm pretty sure he can't handle arsenic."

"It's the perfect plan," Lorelai mused, grinning madly. "No one would trace it back to you, he'd swallow the evidence."

"Where do you buy arsenic?"

"Doose's," she said confidently.

"Doose's?"

"Why not? Last time I was in there they had some weird purple fruit thing," she said, eyes wide with amazement and disgust.

"Purple fruit?" she repeated, looking up at her mom. "It was probably purple cabbage," she told her.

"So? If they have that, they must have arsenic."

Rory rolled her eyes. "I can't buy it in Stars Hollow! They would so know it was me!"

"You're right! Well…it was a great plan while it lasted," Lorelai said, biting her lip.

Rory nodded, pushing herself into a sitting position on the couch. "Definitely," she agreed, solemn.

Mother and daughter sat, silent on the couch, watching the movie play out. Each was lost in thought, lost in the emotions swirling through their heads and hearts. Confusion, anger, heartbreak, sadness, even nostalgia.

"I used him…" Rory finally broke the silence, though her words were barely audible.

Lorelai turned to her. "Who, Logan?" she asked confused, trying to meet Rory's eyes but the younger Gilmore's attention was locked on the TV.

"No, not Logan," Rory said, blinking against the tears stinging her eyes. "I may not be the annoying girl on Oprah yet but I've sure as hell got the pathetic girl in the bar down pat!"

Lorelai frowned at the bitter tone lacing Rory's voice. "Honey, mommy's not exactly following."

Rory sighed, scrambling further into the couch, bringing her knees to her chest. She didn't want to tell her mom this, didn't want to see what her reaction would be. Disappointment that her daughter had once again done the wrong thing, maybe she would be hurt because Rory hadn't told her about what happened with Tristan…

"Do you remember that party that grandma dragged me to?" she asked, trying to ease herself into admitting what transpired that night.

Lorelai nodded, cringing at the memory. "You said Logan was going to be there also."

"He was," she admitted, closing her eyes and leaning her back into the couch. "He was there and it was the first time I'd seen him since I'd walked away."

- - -

_The apartment door opened and the intimidating figure of Mitchum Huntzberger stalked inside. Rory glared at him, her anger doubling by his presence alone. _

"_First time I've ever been happy to see my dad," Logan muttered under his breath as he walked over to where Mitchum was standing but Rory heard him and she immediately backed away from him. _

_She watched as father and son regarded each other silently for a moment. _

"_So I guess you finally told her?" Mitchum then asked and Rory frowned, turning to Logan, the panicked look on his face only making her more nervous. _

"_Told me what?"_

_Mitchum sighed and ran a hand over his forehead. "I can't say I'm not glad it's out in open, I never understood why you would keep this a secret Logan," he exclaimed. "It should be celebrated; a connection like this is golden."_

"_Dad!" Logan hissed, eyes darting between him and Rory. _

"_Look, son, I know you think everything's a game but it isn't. You need to accept your life and what's been given to you. You're the Huntzberger heir, Logan; you can't clown your way through life. You need to step up, take responsibility, and act like a Huntzberger for once!" Mitchum ranted, hands poised on his hips. _

_Logan glared, veins bulging from his neck and forehead. "You think I don't know this, dad? Ever since I could hold a pencil you drilled it in my head what I was going to become. The next great Huntzberger!"_

"_And it's about time you finally buckled down," Mitchum told him. "This relationship between the two of you was childish, Logan. I had thought you had matured more than this but I was obviously mistaken."_

_Rory felt anger and resentment stab at her gut like painful needles, one right after the other. How could these people talk about her like this? Shira first and now Mitchum! Couldn't they see she was standing right beside him? And what hell was he talking about?_

"_Well of course you were Dad," Logan yelled, inching closer to his father. "The only thing anyone ever does is let you down! No one can live up to your holier than thou bullshit! You surround yourself with brownnosers who have nothing better to do than see how far they can stick their heads up your ass! And yet nothing is ever good enough? Why not, dad? I know why I'm not good enough, it's because you don't care. The people who work for you have talent and vision but you fire them and you blame everything on them because you couldn't care less!"_

_Mitchum was shaking with rage, fire burning in his eyes. "Well I must give a damn to put up with your incredulous antics, Logan! Every week you've gone and gotten yourself arrested or kicked out or publicly humiliated. I care Logan; I care enough to get you out the Life and Death Brigade and away from those moronic friends of yours! I care enough to set up this arrangement, to make sure you have the right woman at your side for the future! This engagement is the only thing you have going for you Logan, so you better not screw it up!"_

_A beat. _

_The echo of those words battered her ears, flying past and repeating over and over again. Her vision tilted, spun and then lost focus. Everything was silent, she knew Mitchum was probably still talking but the words didn't register. Wind rushed by her ears, howling and cold and attacking her body. _

_Engaged. _

_One word, two syllables, and it tore through her already fragile heart. It snapped the threads holding back her tears, it slackened her jaw, it felt like a punch to the gut. _

_It couldn't be true…_

"_Rory…Ace, please…" Logan begged her, holding onto her shoulders and Rory finally let her eyes settle on him. "Just let me explain, Ace, please just let me explain."_

_She felt her eyes close, her body jerk forward with the pain of her world crashing around her. She shook her head, the jolt making everything spin around her. And suddenly her heart kicked, missed a beat and then picked up triple time. _

_She ripped herself from his arms, his touch no longer comforting but burning her skin. She turned away from him, away from his father, tears streaming from her eyes, hot on her cheeks and salty as they passed her lips. _

"_Rory!" Logan called, voice pleading and he reached out again. _

_Her feet slipped on the floor of their apartment as she ran. Her knee bumped into the side of the wall, her hands clawed at the doorknob. She couldn't hear her feet as they collided with the hallway floor but she bet the sound was loud. _

_The elevator was far; farther than she'd ever remembered it being._

"_Rory, please!" Logan was behind her, trailing her. _

_She choked out another sob, slipping into the elevator and pressed her thumb urgently to close the doors. He almost caught her, his arm slammed into the metal and she barely heard his curse as the doors shut with a small ding. _

_Rory swallowed, panting, blinking, backing into the wall. She slowly slid to the floor, disbelief resonating painfully inside her. _

_Engaged. _

_- - - _

Lorelai is in tears herself as she watches Rory recount that day. The pain in her daughters' voice is palpable. But there's something else, a catch that comes in every so often. Lorelai studies Rory as she takes a breath, struggling through her story. The pain she's seeing in her daughter isn't threatening her anymore. It isn't attacking her anymore, not like how she explains that day she finally found out about Logan's engagement. The pain is merely there, cloaking her mind and heart, driving her tears. The pain of having yet another relationship crash and burn before her eyes, the pain of having another man break her heart and betray her.

But there was something else there, something that fought against the pain. A driving force, not quite as strong but definitely more determined.

"Rory what happened at the party?" she asked softly but curiosity laced her voice.

Rory licked her lips, thinking back to that night in the bar, that night with Tristan. "I couldn't handle seeing Logan again. Everything at that party was so depressing. Even the fake, hollow people of society looked happier than I was."

"Well that was probably just the Botox," Lorelai added, sending Rory a reassuring smile.

"I couldn't stay there, I don't think I lasted a half hour," she explained softy, almost as if she was living through the night once again. "So I left and I didn't want to go back to Paris's so I just drove around. But I guess I really am your daughter because I ended up at some bar," she said, laughing dryly.

Lorelai smiled. "Sure, candy might help cure a broken heart but alcohol works faster."

Rory nodded absentmindedly. "I only had one drink, I wouldn't let myself be that girl, you know?" she asked and Lorelai nodded, laying a hand on Rory's knee. "I'm not sure why but I was dancing to Michael Bolton and then…"

- - -

"Bible Boy?" Lorelai questioned once again, disbelief crowding her mind.

Rory snorted, shaking her head at her mother. She'd gone through the entire night, the morning after and the next couple of days. Every single detail had been revealed, except for the reader's digest version of their night spent together.

And it had been freeing, like a weight being lifted of her. It helped her breathe through her tears; it helped ease the racing of her heart. Instead of being something that created a rift between her and her mother it had merely brought them closer.

"One in the same," she finally responded to her mom's question.

Lorelai frowned. "As in Tristan-in-love-with-you-but-couldn't-control-his-jerkness-and-got-sent-to-military-school-Dugrey?"

She blinked, staring at her mother in shock. "He wasn't in love with me!" she argued stubbornly. "And I can't believe you remember him, like everything about him."

Lorelai flicked her hair over her shoulder. "I always wanted beautiful grandbabies," she defended.

Rory's mouth dropped open, jaw unhinged, as she stared at her mother in shock. "I can not believe you!"

"And hey, my wish might come true now that you've…you know!" She winked.

Rory rolled her eyes, not meeting her mom's eyes as her cheeks flushed bright red. "I'm ashamed to call you my mother…"

Lorelai laughed but then her face went serious. "Honestly though, I don't care how hot that boy is, I do not want grandbabies anytime soon!"

Rory nodded, still not looking her mom in the eye. "Right, no grandbabies; check!"

Both Gilmore's sat still for a minute, not sure where to go from there. They'd managed to change the atmosphere around them. Light hearted, fluffy conversation now prevailed, a welcomed distraction to the big problem sitting between them. They'd even taken up time by talking about tiny insignificant details that made up their daily lives.

Lorelai had become addicted to honey nut cheerio's. Rory cut up banana's in her cereal now.

"So, I think we've covered all the non-serious topics for tonight," Lorelai exclaimed.

"Luke hates Star Wars," Rory supplied.

"Tristan hates colour in his apartment."

"We've both somehow developed healthy eating habits."

Lorelai nodded, though her nose scrunched up at the mere thought. "Definitely Luke's influence," she decided.

Rory suddenly gasped and turned to her mom, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Oh mom, I'm so sorry," she gushed. "I was so wrapped up in my own melodrama I completely forgot about Luke!"

She smiled. "Its okay kid, I get it. He's really not that memorable, it's the flannel, you know?" she asked rhetorically. "It kinda blends into the background."

Rory rolled her eyes and turned to face her mom properly. "Look, I know my life has turned into some crazy, over dramatic soap opera but you're the one who called me. Now, tell me everything about Luke."

Lorelai sighed and shifted into a more comfortable position, grabbing a pillow of the couch and hugging it in her lap. "Sweets, its nothing that important. I mean, sure, this whole thing with Anna and 'Who's my baby's daddy?' is overwhelming but I'm dealing."

"Are you? Really?"

"Yes! I just, earlier I had called Luke and he said something about April coming over to the diner and so I couldn't. I just, I want to get to know her, is that so wrong? She's Luke's daughter! And she's here and cute and really smart, and I don't want to have to skulk around town like I'm living in some old 50's movie!"

Rory raised an eyebrow, smiling proudly for her mom but her blue eyes still shone with sadness. "You shouldn't have to. Luke's just trying to figure all this stuff out but he has to figure out that April is becoming a part of his life, of your life."

"Maybe I have to make the first move? Reach out to April?" she asked, hesitant and biting her bottom lip. "I don't want to seem like some crazy strangler though. Maybe I could talk to Luke, try and get him thinking about the future some more."

"The future where you guys are happily married?"

She scoffed. "I'm even less sure of that happening," she admitted, eyes watering a little but Lorelai was determined not to cry.

"No, mom, you can't be not sure! You have to make sure, because you and Luke need to get married! You're perfect for each other and frankly if Luke doesn't get it together and set a date than he's gonna have to answer to me!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Lorelai stared at her daughter, shock written all over her face. "Holy! Look at little Miss Erin Brockovich!" she called happily.

"Well, I'm not too sold on the whole lawyer thing but if the shoe fits!"

"I'm not sorry I called you, kid, even though I don't really want to talk about it." Lorelai sighed and stretched on the couch, planting her feet on the coffee table in front of her. "I just felt so disconnected…"

Rory snapped her attention to her mom at that one word. It echoed in her head, her lips forming it soundlessly. _Disconnected? _Was that how she felt? Was that how to describe the numbness filling her body? Rory frowned, gnawing on her lower lip thoughtfully.

She'd been so broken before, so lifeless. Everything had seemed dull to her eyes, every sound and colour, nothing was bright anymore. But then she'd gone to his apartment, his monochromatic apartment and everything was suddenly so vivid, so sharp that it almost hurt to look at.

He'd made her feel alive, made her listen to her heart instead of her head. She'd never before heard it beat so fast, so hard. Tristan had impacted her life more than she could have ever imagined.

"Umm…I'm gonna go to bed," she told her mom who nodded, concern shining in her eyes.

Rory smiled softly and walked to her old room, not bothering to turn on the light or change into more comfortable clothes. She merely lay down on her bed, thoughts running a mile a minute through her head.

Why did she feel so disconnected?

Alone, she stared up at a ceiling she couldn't even see. Her room was dark, shadows playing over the walls.

Silent.

_Thump…Thump…Thump…_

Her lungs burned with each breath, ragged and forceful. The tears that had collected in her eyes were gone, dried on her cheeks and dampening the material of her shirt.

She felt empty, the symphony of her heart ringing in her ears. She'd never thought she could feel this way before, never had felt this way. So hollow, so numb, so broken.

She'd been happy before and she'd been done. Done searching for Mr. Right, done fighting against her feelings, done letting herself suffer through relationships that crashed and burned more often than not.

She'd been done.

And yet here she lay, body stiff, old clothes and papers digging into her back as she flattened them with her dead weight.

_Thump…Thump…Thump…_

She felt different with Tristan. In his arms she'd found solace, a comfortable haven to rest her tired body. With him the screaming in her head softened, the pain in her heart dulled. With him she felt alive.

Rory turned onto her side, squinting her eyes shut as the red light from her alarm clock kissed her face.

She'd never been active before, but she couldn't remember a time when she'd been so exhausted before. Her mother must be worried, must think she was having some kind of breakdown.

Breaking down was weak, she wouldn't break down again. She could feel the strength lying in her veins, dormant right now but ready and willing to spring to the surface. Breaking down was something she'd already done.

Numbness she'd been through first. Going through each day, waking up with the dawn and working past twilight. It was emotionless, mechanical and it was what she'd been able to afford. Social padding for her life; surrounding herself with experiences and people so that just _maybe _she could forget about what happened with Logan.

Disorganization had been next. She'd woken up one morning, looked at herself in the mirror, and stayed like that all day. She'd watched herself from afar, seeing herself as she masked the pain she was feeling. But seeing it had been too much and she'd succumbed, finally. She'd cried for herself, shed the tears that had built up behind her eyes. She couldn't forget.

So what happened now?

_Thump…Thump…Thump…_

Reorganization: reworking herself into a new routine, a new everyday life. After giving herself time. Time to grieve and to heal, time to feel anger and depression, time to feel guilty.

Rory smiled, watery and limp.

Acceptance was golden.

- - -

_**A/N: **Finally! I know I probably made lots of enemies not updating this or any story for the longest time. Sorry! Really… Any way I was in Florida for two weeks for March Break and I just got back, so I unpacked and then quickly typed this up and voila! Here it is!_

_The next chapter is in the works, I already have about 4000 words of it and it's definitely not done yet! I guess I can ask, do you want a super long update? Or should I split it in half and give you two average updates? Your choice!_

_Thanks so much for all the reviews! You guys rock! Hope you like this chapter, even without Tristan….And just a note, I don't own Chicago or the lines I borrowed! Although, I would love to...  
_

_Hugs and Kisses,  
-Ella_


	7. Today, Choose Happiness

**Never Say Goodbye Again**

There are so many times she'll stop. Her feet will freeze, eyes transfixed on something in the distance and growing slowly softer.

She doesn't cry anymore, though. And she thinks that's progress.

But she stops, halts in whatever it is that she's doing. Because blocking her path to her class is the archway Logan pulled her under once. Because the coffee cart she's about to walk up to is the one where she first met him.

And the memories assault her as she walks the campus. Sometimes mere flashes, a quick snippet of conversations they had or the time she made him laugh or the time when he grabbed her hand as they walked.

And she likes to think she's remembering for another reason other than longing. Because she's not longing for Logan, that flame is dead and cold and that wick has burned to ashes.

She likes to think she's getting closure. Her heart still remembers Logan and their world wind romance. And while her mind is still in the process of hating him, her heart can't even bear to think of hating anyone, especially Logan.

And so, when her mind flashes back to the sweet kisses they shared when he would drop her off at her dorm, or that blissful week they spent alone during spring break, she thinks its closure. She's remembering Logan so she won't forget all the good times they had together, so she won't toss his memory away and bury everything.

So she can move on, when the time comes.

But when is that time? Is there an appropriate waiting period before she's allowed to move on? Hell, she's already kissed another guy, already slept with another man. But is it too soon for a relationship?

It's been three weeks since her break down with her mother, since she came to the conclusion that she was ready to heal, ready to bury the blame and the torch she held for Logan.

And that realization felt more than good.

- - -

Rory walked out of the bathroom, towelling her hair neatly and rubbing out any excess water. She absentmindedly threw the towel onto the boxes by her bed, still packed with clothes and books and anything she happened to throw in it.

Her old room at Paris's apartment was just like she left it. The walls were dingy and cracked, the ceiling still leaking in the corner, the floor dusty and cold under her feet. When she first moved back into Paris and Doyle's she had felt out of place, like she didn't fit into this room and this life anymore. Slowly though, over not much more time than a week, it started to seem more comfortable again.

It wasn't her home. She'd never considered this tiny, broken and dangerous apartment her home. She hadn't felt truly at home since she lived at her dorms, though they were still a step down from her home in Star's Hollow.

Living with Paris just seemed natural, like this was something she was meant to do. Like every other college girl who didn't have rich grandparents or a rich dad, they had to live in a disgusting apartment they could still hardly afford. It made her feel comfortable, because she felt like she earned her stay their, she wasn't just living off her grandparents' money.

Living with Logan had been something completely different. She'd gotten used to the luxuries. Doormen, lobbies, city views, heated flooring, walk in closets. His place had been spacious and extravagant and a bachelor's pad, even after she moved in. No matter how hard she tried she never felt a 'couples' vive from his place. It was always 'Logan's apartment', not theirs.

Rory sighed and threw herself down on her bed. For giving up on Logan and their relationship she spent an awful lot of time thinking about him. But she had nothing else to occupy her mind. Things with her mom and Luke were looking up, finally. Her professors had for once in the history of Yale, decided to lighten up on the course work and so she didn't have any reading or any essays to write. Even the YDN's was failing her, as editor she thought she would have a never ending task list but even an editor's list dwindles down to nothing after a while.

Well…she didn't have absolutely nothing to think about…

Rory crept over to her open door and smoothly shut it. Her eyes darted over to the white piece of paper that was sitting innocently on her dresser. Except it was not so much with the innocence and more with the slowly driving her completely crazy.

203-555-1212

On a normal day, 10 digits would mean nothing but someone's phone number. On this day, and for the last week since she'd asked her grandmother for said phone number, they mean everything.

Tristan's phone number was an odd thing to have. Especially because she never saw herself as the kind of girl who would ever have his phone number, let alone have it memorized. Which she did, by the way... You can only stare at the same number for so long without unconsciously memorizing it.

She gnawed at her bottom for a moment before she picked up the paper and dropped down onto her bed. The portable phone was sitting on her nightstand as it had been for the past week, yet another reminder that she yet to gather enough courage to call him.

But did she really need to call him?

Sure, they spent one very intimate, very private night together, but she left the next morning. Therefore the night was slightly ruined, slightly tainted because of her high tailing it out of his bedroom before the alarm went off.

And though she'd entertained the idea of leaving it a one night stand, her reporter instincts wouldn't let her. That ring that hung around his neck had haunted her, driven her crazy with the need to find out if it was a wedding ring or not. She would not be able to deal with another Dean.

Their second night together was just as intimate and just as private. Except this time their clothes remained on, for the most part. Her expensive, designer dress was removed and stashed in his dryer for around an hour and left her sitting on his couch in nothing but a long sleeve men's dress shirt but it remained…innocent.

And it was because of that night that she'd asked her grandmother for his number. It was because she couldn't stop remembering their conversation, the words he said to her and the husky voice he'd spoken in. The way his whispered innuendo's caressed her skin and left her feeling weakened and flushed.

"I can do it," she told herself, nodding vigorously. "I'm an adult, I can do this."

She gulped, bringing the phone up closer and letting her fingers hesitate. She could do this, she had to do this. She couldn't let herself obsess over every detail of him and their twisted, contorted, not-so-sure-this-is-actually-real relationship. She had to be a grown up and…

"Oh thank God!" she chorused as said phone lit up and started ringing in her lap. "Hello?"

"Hello, Rory? It's Tristan."

And the phone plummeted from her hand, bounced off her comforter and crashed onto the floor. The battery latch broke off; fortunately the batteries remained inside as the phone hit on its side and then rolled so the speaker was facing upwards.

"Rory?"

Slowly, she let one arm extend down towards the phone, gingerly picking it up and pressing it to her ear. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, teeth clenched together until the very moment before she spoke.

"Tristan?"

"And she speaks, finally."

Her mouth opened and closed and she was more than glad he was on the phone and couldn't see her fumbling for words. "Hi," she whispered, frowning at her less than intelligent first word.

"Hi," he echoed, his naturally gruff voice tinged with amusement.

She fell quiet, listening to his calm breathing on the other end and before she knew it found herself relaxing into bed. "I was just about to call you," she admitted.

"Oh really?" he teased, laughing ever so softly. "Let's say I believe you, what were you calling me for?"

She smiled and rolled onto her side. "Hey, you're the one who called me. You should be answering that question."

"What if I said I was bored?" he asked.

"Are you?"

"Potentially."

She rolled her eyes. "You can't be potentially bored. You're either bored or you're not."

"Well maybe I was thinking you would hang up once you realized it was me," he said, but his voice never changed which left Rory pondering whether he was serious or not. "Ergo, me having said potential to be bored."

"Unless I didn't hang up, but proved to be fairly uninteresting conversation."

"Now you could never be anything but interesting, Mary," he cooed teasingly and she once again rolled her eyes, feeling a strange bubble of warmth spreading throughout her stomach.

"So, I think you're safe from me hanging up anytime soon," she told him. "Why don't you tell me why you called?"

"Can't I just ring you up to ask how your day is?"

"Only if you wanted to get mocked ridiculously for the next century."

"Better hold off on that question then."

"It's probably for the best," she agreed smiling wider than she had in a long time.

"What are you doing next week, Mary?" he asked, serious once again.

She paused, eyes widening a bit and her lip being taken hostage by her teeth. "When next week?" she asked, not realizing until after she spoke how unintentionally coy she sounded.

"Monday," he told her directly.

"Classes, the paper."

"I should have known you'd be on the Yale Daily News," he baited. "Could never get your nose out of a book."

"How novel of me," she said, smiling when she heard him laugh as they both remembered those earlier times at Chilton. "I'm actually the editor and…Wait, how did you guess Yale?"

Tristan laughed, wholeheartedly. "I was at the same party you were, Mary," he told her like she needed a reminder, like that night wasn't clear as day in her mind. "You were pointed out to me pretty early on. If I remember correctly, I was even recommended to speak with you."

"Really?" she asked, propping herself up in bed, cheeks blushing as delight coursed through her veins. "Recommended?"

"It's a high praise. And truthfully, I can't say I would disagree, you are brilliant," he said and she blushed even more, somehow hearing him compliment her himself made her feel 100 times better than before.

"How would you know?" she asked softly, truly curious.

"Us editors have to know our competition," he revealed and Rory almost choked on air as she threw herself into a sitting position.

"What?" she asked. "You're an editor? What paper? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Breathe," he instructed, laughing at her barrage of questions.

"I can't breathe," she insisted and clutched the phone tighter. "What paper are you editor for, tell me."

"And since you asked so nicely," he told her, pausing for a moment. "It was the paper at Duke."

She frowned, her excitement fading a little as she caught onto his words. "Was?"

"Can't very well be the editor for a school paper when you're not in attendance, can you?"

"You dropped out?" she asked, feeling a painful tug on her heart as she remembered the awful time she'd spent, a college dropout and working with her Grandmother at the DAR.

"You sound disappointed," he remarked casually but Rory could hear the surprise in his voice.

"I'm…not…I just," she stammered through the millions of words pushing at her lips. She knew she couldn't say anything to him about dropping out, not without becoming a hypocrite. So she settled for something else. "I'm just surprised, I guess. You were so smart at Chilton and even though you never really seemed to care about school you were still in the top ten."

"Mary, you sure noticed a lot about someone you claimed to hate," he said softly.

"I never hated you," she confessed, smiling embarrassedly. "You were annoying and arrogant and had an ego the size of Jupiter. But I didn't hate you."

"Good to know."

They were both silent for a moment, trying to digest how rapidly their conversation was changing. They'd gone from their natural, light and easy banter, to a serious discussion in mere seconds. Rory would never understand how easy it was to talk to him, over the phone and in person. He could make her blush with only a look, he made her heart race and her stomach explode with butterflies and yet she'd never felt more at ease with another man.

"So about Monday?" he finally broke the silence that had stretched between them, a pause that had been not awkward in the least.

Rory squirmed nervously, her stomach doing flip flops as she thought over what he was subtly asking her. "Yeah?"

"It's the first day I get back," he told and before she had time to question him he continued, "I was wondering if you maybe wanted to have dinner?"

Rory paused, bottom lip caught between her teeth. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage, as she considered her options. She could say no, she could pretend that their nights together were nothing more than mere coincidence with a side of alcohol induced actions. She could ignore the way her body reacted to his presence, his voice, the way her heart called to him in a way she'd never felt before. She could say no…

"Sure," she agreed, trying to sound breezy and calm although her voice came out much more breathy.

Tristan laughed on the other end and Rory smiled as she pictured him stretched out on his leather couch back at his loft, smirk in place. "Who would have thought you'd ever agree to going out with me?" he asked rhetorically.

Rory rolled her eyes. "I must be suffering from a chemical imbalance, or something."

But really, Rory would have never thought her and Tristan would ever be anything more than friends. At certain times in her past, friendship even seemed too far out of the question. But now, things were different, they were different. She wasn't sure if they'd grown up, matured or realized whoever the hell it was they were supposed to be in life. But things were different this time around, and she found she really wanted to know him.

Tristan laughed again and she smiled. "Then I guess I should go before you come back to your senses," he eased in.

Rory frowned, feeling disappointment set. She couldn't believe she was already so affected by him. Just talking on the phone for a half an hour could send her heart into a tailspin and make her want to see him immediately.

"You're busy, today?" she asked, trying in vain to keep her voice neutral.

She felt him pause on the other line and then heard what sounded like a door closing. "Yeah, coffee date," he said nonchalantly and she heard yet another door close.

She sat up in bed, her fingers nervously going to her mouth. Her stomach was filled with nerves all of a sudden and she let her gaze flit towards her bedroom door. No matter how casually he'd said that there was something in his voice and it had her rising from her bed and shuffling out into the apartment.

"Tristan?" she questioned, listening to his breathing.

"Mary."

"Coffee date?"

A knock.

Rory shook her head, complete shock painting her face as she walked to the door and unlocked it. Her eyes met his in the next second, icy blue and so familiar. He was leaning up against the door casing, his cell phone attached to his ear and a small smirk planted on his lips.

"Thought you might want to come," he suggested and she blushed, smiling uncontrollably.

"You're insane," she told him, laughing and then hanging up her phone and backing into the apartment.

Tristan shrugged and stepped inside. His eyes darted around the place for a minute before coming to rest back on her. "You live here?" he asked in disbelief, spinning around as he dropped his phone into his jacket pocket.

Rory sighed and crossed her arms. "Yes."

He shook his head, spying a large crack running down one of the walls. "No," he stated and she scoffed.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

He smirked, cocking his head to the side. "You can't seriously live here, Rory." Tristan watched her for a second before inviting himself further into the apartment and inspecting the walls more. "It's not safe; you'll wake up one morning in a pile of plaster and nothing else."

She rolled her eyes and walked towards her bedroom. "And if that ever happens I can be glad I'm still alive," she told him dryly.

He followed her. "You here alone?" he asked, picking up a random book from her dresser.

Rory peered over at him. "Right now?" she clarified, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Do you live alone?"

"No," she told him vaguely smiling as she pictured his response to hearing about Paris. "I have two roommates."

"They out?" he asked, taking another step forward.

Rory nodded and flung her purse over her shoulder, picking up her coat as well. "At the paper," she told him and he nodded.

Tristan smiled, letting his gaze drift over her from her still damp hair to her long white sweater and stone wash jeans. "You looked good," he complimented and she couldn't help her blush.

"Thanks," she said and shifted on her feet, which reminded her she still needed shoes and so she gestured to the door behind him. "So you show up here, out of the blue?"

Tristan smiled and leaned back against the wall as she put her shoes on, one by one. "I was in the neighbourhood. Plus, we still have to set up specifics for our date next week and now I know where to pick up."

"Smooth," she told him and put on her coat, wrapping a woollen scarf around her neck.

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You're not curious as to how I found you?" he asked, surprised and held open the door for her.

Rory shrugged. "I assume you looked me up in the phone book," she stated, locking the door and then dropping her key into her purse. "Or you're a stalker."

"Huh, with only those options to pick from I'm gonna have to go with number two," he told her, smirking.

Rory laughed and sped up so she was walking down the stairs in front of him. "Interesting. You want me to walk ten paces in front of you, or something?"

"Nah," he said and gently grabbed her arm, tugging her back to his side. "Want kind of gentleman would I be, then?"

She laughed, tipping her head back and smiling. They walked out of her apartment and into the windy streets of New Haven. The cold air brushed her skin, her cheeks becoming rosy and her head getting cold from her wet hair.

"You? A Gentleman?" she repeated. "Now that's something I'll have to see for myself."

He merely smiled and stepped out onto the curb, pushing a button on his keychain so the black car in front of him lit up. "You're chariot, milady," he drawled, opening the door and bowing gallantly.

Rory laughed again but raised her chin in the air and stepped inside his car. "Such service," she teased and smiled as he shut the door gently after she was settled.

His car was still warm from when he'd driven it over here and Rory sighed as she felt her body relax into the soft leather interior. She let her eyes flutter closed as he opened his side and got in. He strapped himself in and then smoothly started the car, one hand lazily on the steering wheel and the other palming the stick shift.

"Nice car," she commented and he groaned.

"Wow, you're voluntarily talking about cars," he said and wryly shook his head. "Don't think a dates ever gone downhill that fast before."

Rory shushed him, rolling her eyes. "Not downhill," she told him sagely. "No, it's still very much…up hill."

He chanced at look at her, his blue eyes lit up in a way that made her heart flutter. He looked so completely different today; he was so open and relaxed, like he didn't have a care in the world. She wondered how he could be like that. How his eyes could cloud over so easily and his body tense. Like he was protecting himself from some unknown threat.

Rory looked over him, watching him as he easily steered the car out onto the street. "Is there any chance you're going to tell me where we're going?" she asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

He smirked and shrugged. "If you guess right."

"Hmm," she said, narrowing her eyes as if trying to come up with the most perfect answer. "Well let's see. It's 11:30 in the morning, to late for breakfast and way to early for dinner. I refuse to eat whatever it is people call brunch –it's an early lunch, okay, just accept it!"

Tristan laughed at her side rant, nodding along. "I'm in agreement with you so far, Mare."

She smiled at him. "Good to know." Rory pursed her lips, shifted once in her seat and then propped her leg underneath herself so she could sit facing him. "I've got to say, Dugrey, I would have thought you'd have something more elaborate planned. I mean, lunch? It's just so…common."

He rolled his eyes at her teasing and turned to look at her as he stopped the car at a red light. "What can I say, I like to play old school, once in a while."

She nodded, nibbling her bottom lip. "Old school's good. Very classic, very Sinatra."

His eyes seemed to light up even more, passion leaping from the navy irises. "Wow, a comparison to 'ole blue eyes himself, you must really like me," he exclaimed, shifting the car into gear again.

"What makes you think that? I could have been comparing you to Nancy."

"Hey now, I'm no Nancy," he clarified, holding up a finger. "For one thing, I'm missing certain appendages and for another I think I much more resemble Frank Jr."

Rory narrowed her eyes as she let her gaze sweep over him. "Resemble? Sure I can see that, you know except for the hair and the eyes and not being an American singer."

He scoffed. "Other than all that, though?" he teased and then shook his head. "I didn't mean in the looks department. Frank Jr. was never appreciated for all his talents, merely shunned for his inability to live up to his father's success."

She paused, letting the words she'd been about to say die on her lips. His blue eyes were alight with passion, a barely controlled anger sparking behind his normally cool façade. She wondered if the story of a man who merely existed in the shadow of his father, hit a little to close to home for Tristan. Could that be what seemed to gnaw at him all the time? Could it be why his eyes fell dark every now and then, angry and chaotic?

She smiled gently and easily shifted the conversation to something else. "So? I guessed right with lunch, which means you have to tell me where we're going."

He looked relieved for a moment, his shoulders dropping and his face softening. "Was that our deal?"

"Mm-hmm," she murmured, stretching one arm out the length of the window.

He sighed out and flexed his fingers over the steering wheel. "We're going to eat."

"Eat? That's all you're going to give me?" she asked, staring at him.

Tristan shrugged and levelled his eyes on hers for a moment, the blue irises sparkling avidly. "Eat food," he added on, a slow smirk building on his face.

Rory let her eyes roll heavenward, clearly unimpressed. "Really, I would have never guessed."

He smiled at the sarcasm dripping from her voice and plastered an innocent expression on his face. "Glad I could help."

She merely rolled her eyes again and shifted around in her seat until she was comfortable. They continued to drive in silence, each casting a quick glance at the other and smiling when their gazes met.

And somehow, without either of them even realizing, their hands had met and clasped together.

- - -

_**A/N: So, this chapter came out fairly easy and it would have been a lot faster had fanfiction been working. Anyway, I thought you guys deserve a long update, and as an extra bonus this one is almost completely trory!**_

_**Thanks a million for all the kind reviews, you make me smile!**_

_**Hugs and Kisses,  
-Ella**_


	8. When Your Past Is Hurting Your Present

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls, though I wish to. But I do own the idea of The Log House Restaurant because I made it up for this chapter!

_Never Say Goodbye Again_

Sometimes life throws you these moments where everything is perfect.

And if you had it in your power, you would freeze time, just so you could relive that moment, forever.

But time can't be frozen and so that singular moment passes you by, like dust in wind, and you're left wondering if you merely imagined the whole thing.

But Rory knew she couldn't be imaging this. Because it was too perfect, too amazing, too real.

Real in the way the breeze caught her hair in its gentle fingers. Real in the way the sun kissed her skin ever so softly.

She wanted to memorize everything about this moment. So that she could be sure she'd never forget it, just in case she was never granted another moment like this one.

But if the man sitting across from her had any say it that, Rory was sure this feeling would become oddly familiar.

It was just the kind of man she'd discovered he was. A man of detail and passion. A man that held open the door for her and kept it open so the elderly couple behind them could shuffle in to.

A man that turned off his cell phone the minute they'd sat down at their table, claiming there was nothing in the world that couldn't wait an hour or two.

His actions brought an unsinkable smile to her face. And she quickly found herself wishing that hour or two window could be expanded into four hours, then twelve hours, then a week.

If only time would stop moving forward.

If only she could freeze this moment.

"So you do like the restaurant, right?" he asked again, laying his forearms on the table before him and leaning in towards her.

Rory smiled and nodded. "I honestly never would have thought you'd bring me here."

He grinned. "Mission accomplished."

Her eyebrow rose in question. "And what mission would that be exactly?"

"My mission to keep you on your toes."

"Well you're definitely succeeding in that," she agreed, letting her gaze drift over the restaurant, still feeling her bewilderment at his choice of dining.

She'd laughed at first when she saw the restaurant. The word rustic came quickly to her tongue, and yet she meant it in the most positive way. _The Log House Restaurant_ was just as it seems, a huge, two storey log cabin refurbished into a restaurant. It was pretty from the front, made of dark wood beams and surrounded by tall, leafy trees. But it was the inside that had took her breath away.

The entire first floor was one open space, except for the further most corner that she assumed was the kitchen. The strong scent of wood hung in the air and Rory found herself breathing it in deeply as their waiter had brought them further into the restaurant. The tables were large, easily seating four or more people, and yet they were comfortable, with forest green table cloths and porcelain dinnerware. The second storey was held up on huge wooden columns, vines growing up their sides and twisting all the way to the top.

"This place is amazing," she'd whispered to him as they walked towards the stairs that led up to the second storey.

"Just wait, Mary," he'd whispered back and she'd been left confused as to what he meant.

Her confusion didn't last long. As they reached the top of the stairs Rory was met with the awe inspiring sight of huge fir trees, flocks of birds, glistening waters, and a blue sky that stretched on for what seemed like forever. The entire outer wall of the second storey was a huge floor to ceiling window, looking out over a sparkling lake and its natural surroundings.

"Oh wow..." She'd been utterly speechless, lost in the magnificent sight of forest and nature.

"My grandfather showed me this place," Tristan revealed, bringing Rory out of her memories and back to the present.

"Really?" she asked, curiosity shining bright in her eyes.

Tristan nodded, a wistful expression donning on his face, making him look much older than he was.

"He used to spend his summers fishing. Whenever he found the time he would load up the car, bring the boat, and just disappear for the weekend." His eyes shined with laughter and affection, only a small note of sadness registered in their blue depths. "He'd come back early the next week, maybe one or two fish in a basket. Tiny ones to, I don't think he caught anything bigger than my hand. But he loved it you know, he'd spend forever just sitting out on the lake, a fishing line in his hand."

"It sounds nice," Rory commented, though her nose was turned up a bit. "The solitude, not the catching the fish part."

Tristan laughed. "I'll have to take you out one weekend!"

Her eyes widened. "Remind me to be busy that weekend..." she teased, threading her fingers through her hair.

His grin intensified. "Aww, come on Mary," he coaxed.

She smiled, shaking her head. "You were telling me about your grandfather," she reminded him, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," he conceded, "but this discussion isn't over!" He laid his hands down on the table, his head turned to gaze down at the lake right outside the restaurant. "He found that lake one summer and loved it. Said it was the most peaceful place he'd ever been. The bugs were few, the fish were biting, and he'd found his...I don't know what to call it exactly..."

Rory laughed. "His happy place?" she offered, blushing when he stared at her intently.

Tristan smirked and extended his arm, grabbing onto her hand and threading their fingers.

"Anyway," he continued, that small spark of sadness growing larger. "He got sick the end of that summer, he couldn't get out here anymore, couldn't get anywhere really. It wasn't until the next summer that he was able to get up and take the drive down here..." Tristan paused and Rory squeezed her hand around his, feeling the emotions running through him. "And it was this restaurant he found."

She tilted her head to the side and was about to say something when the waitress came by, brandishing their drinks and entrée's Tristan had ordered early.

"Thanks," Tristan told her, smiling and the women nodded.

"Are you two ready to order?" she asked.

Rory blushed, moving to pick up the menu she hadn't even looked at yet. She'd been so completely caught up in Tristan.

He smiled at her, squeezing her hand that was still grasped in his. "We're gonna need a few minutes," he said politely.

The waitress nodded and smiled before walking off to a table a few down from theirs.

Rory worried her bottom lip, glancing up at him from behind her menu. "So? What's good here?" she asked.

Tristan smirked, opening his own menu and shrugging. "The fish?"

Rory laughed, a wide smile breaking across her face. "Fish it is then..." she decided and they held gazes for a minute longer then need be.

- - -

Her face was alight with excitement as they walked from the restaurant later that afternoon. She'd never asked what part of Connecticut they were in, although from the complete isolation of the restaurant she could assume somewhere in the country side.

The land was covered by a thick ring of fir trees surrounding it. Their tall trunks hidden by pointed, prickly pine needles covered in mounds of white snow. The snow was untouched in most areas, a stark difference to the grey sludge that lined the sidewalks out front of her apartment. But out here, in the middle of no where, the ground was hidden beneath a fluffy mountain of pure white flakes.

"You cold?" Tristan asked, his hand pressed firmly against the small of her back, the gesture warming her more than he would ever realize.

Rory shook her head, though her cheeks were stinging a tad and she knew they were probably bright red in colour. Nothing, not even the temperature, could distract her from the beauty around her.

He laughed and started to unbutton his woollen jacket. "Yeah right," he told her. "Here, take my coat."

Rory frowned, her hands immediately pushing his coat back up onto his shoulders. "No," she refused. "I'm not taking your coat so you can feel all chivalrous while you freeze to death."

He rolled his eyes, slipping the buttons back into place. "Fine, but the guy's suppose to offer his coat. I have it on good authority."

"Charm school?"

He grinned. "Only the best for a Dugrey."

Rory laughed softly, watching him out of the corner of her eye for a moment. He was taller than she remembered, his hair shorter, his eyes colder. He was different, older. She wanted to ask him about his life, wanted to know what he'd been through, wanted to know everything he'd ever been through.

"So…" She forced the word past her lips, rolling her eyes at his grimace.

"Oh joy," he exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "The awkward conversation that always rears its ugly head on first dates."

She arched a brow at him, clearly unimpressed. "Not awkward," she promised and shyly, with one glance at his face, grabbed his hand with her own.

Tristan's eyes snapped down to their hands, his fingers flexing for a moment before he grasped hers in return. His lips lengthened in a slow smile and Rory felt a bubble of warmth explode in her chest.

"Just don't ask me what my major is, and I think we'll both survive," he told her, smiling ruggedly.

Rory shook her head. "I can't know you're major? I would think that's a rather important thing to know. I mean, it's something you're planning on basing your entire life on. What if you were majoring in accounting and I didn't know and I took my accounting needs to some other guy on campus!"

He looked at her, laughter shining in his blue eyes. "You know people who major in accounting?"

"No, but that's not saying I'll never meet anyone who is," she explained. "I wouldn't want you to feel left out or anything."

"Well how about I tell you now that you're free to take your accounting needs to any guy on campus," he told her, smiling. "Or better yet, you could call up a paid professional if you're feeling crazy enough!"

"You're making fun of me!"

His smirk was larger than ever, though his eyes tried to mask his laughter behind a veil of innocence. "Never.'

Rory pouted. "Mean."

"Japanese Business Management," he told her, his voice growing bitter as the words escaped his lips.

"What?" she asked, stilling as they finally came towards the car.

Tristan sighed and leaned back against the passenger door, running a hand through his hair. "My major, Japanese Business Management."

Rory furrowed her brows, confusion swimming endlessly through her mind. She opened her mouth to ask him why he would be majoring in that, when she actually let herself see him. The height he had on her earlier was all but gone, his shoulders hunched down as he jammed his hands into his coat pockets. His eyes were averted from hers, staring down at the ground and Rory swore she could feel the anger emanating from his eyes as if it was flames of fury licking over her feet.

But there was something else, something that had her biting her tongue and shuffling that much closer to him.

A sadness that seemed to dwell within him, a huge despair that threatened his soul as he stood before her.

Rory felt her heart clenching as she watched him. Her hands moved on their own accord, drifting to his coat and smoothing over the lapels.

"Tristan?" she asked quietly, her voice a gentle whisper.

He lifted his eyes to hers and she felt her knees almost give out under her weight. They were intense, his deep azure eyes, holding her frozen in place for an immeasurable amount of time. The emotions swirling through the icy depths of his eyes had her heart contracting in the need to comfort him.

And then they were empty.

And a different man was staring back at her, one cut off from everything around him, one cut so deeply that he let nothing show on his face.

Tristan nodded stiffly, swung the door open and motioned for her to sit. He kept his gaze locked on her as she carried out his request, her actions hesitant and confused. He tightened his grip on the door, cursing under his breath as he swung it closed and then walked silently to the other side.

"Tristan…I…" Rory trailed off as he leaned his head back against his seat and sighed.

"I'm sorry." His voice was coarse, like he was fighting a battle against himself of what explanation to give her. "I just…I wanted to tell you. But I…I can't talk about it…Yet…"

Rory watched him for another moment before she nodded, a gentle smile turning up her lips. And her heart leapt as he returned her smile.

She'd glimpse so many different sides to this man. His arrogance and his pride, his boyish charms, his passion and his dedication. But this was something different, something new. This was a glimpse at the man underneath all that, the man that he'd become in the years they'd been absent from each others lives.

A man who'd endured great suffering and great despair.

A man whose resentment was coiled so tightly inside him that he might never be free of it.

A man who couldn't bring himself to let her in…yet.

And it was that single word that had her smiling at him, that one syllable word that had her heart lit up with hope.

He wasn't ready to let her all the way in…_yet_.

- - -

_**A/N: Okay…so, I'm hoping everyone still remembers this story because it's been ages since I've updated it! Which I am sorry about, but exams and summative's got in the way. But school's finally over and now, other than working and shopping and stuff, I have two months free! So hopefully I'll get back into writing. **_

_**Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and this story as a whole. You guys are just so amazing! **_

_**Hugs and Kisses,  
-Ella **_


End file.
